


Vaster Than Empires

by Ayezur



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Feudalism, alina made me do it, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 163,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayezur/pseuds/Ayezur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Universe. The Western Army is defeated; the country stands, uneasy, under the hand of the Tokugawa. Kaoru Kamiya, whose family was on the losing side, has been sold into marriage for the sake of peace. Her new husband is a legend, a demon bound in human form, marked by his blood-lust and his bright red hair...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a gentleman in a dustcoat trying

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: Hi. This is also Alina's fault, but it's less silly than the other one.
> 
> This AU is historical fiction, heavy on the fiction. There will be inaccuracies. I will straight make things up for the sake of getting the plot where I need it to go. I'm trying not to be any worse with history than Watsuki was; however I will probably get at least one thing hilariously wrong per chapter. I'll fix what I can as we go along, but don't expect my historical accuracy to exceed James Clavell's, here, because I am only mortal.
> 
> I'm borrowing some of the characterization/history of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu from Crescent Moon over the Warring States. We'll get into it later on. Bear with me for now.
> 
> This fic can also be found at ff.net: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9030732/1/Vaster-Than-Empires
> 
> Here we go.

The day of her wedding dawned soft and grey. Kaoru refused her breakfast and sat on the porch outside her room, watching the mist rise from the courtyard garden.  Her father had designed a garden for her mother, long before she was born, planting every sprout and sapling with his own hands.  Even after her death he had never suffered another to tend it, and her last memory of him was this: her father standing at the edge of the shallow pond under the maple tree, and the leaves drifting down like bloody snow.

_Our lives do not belong to us, Kaoru_ , he’d told her, breaking off a single slender twig and handing it to her.  _You know that._

_But why do you have to go?_ she’d wanted to ask.  A child’s question, when she was no longer a child.  Should he stay, and watch his brothers and cousins send their sons to die?  Such a thing was unconscionable.  So he had gone to war, and she’d placed the twig and the leaf that clung to it on the family altar, praying that he would return.

The door to the hallway opened.

“My lady.”  Tae knelt and bowed to her, a handful of junior maids scattered behind her like migrating geese.  “It’s time.”

“Of course,” Kaoru said, and smiled.

They dressed her in layers of white silk, winding her like a corpse in a shroud, and when they were done she could only move in small, slow steps.  A lady’s steps, delicate and graceful.  Not her own: not her long warrior’s strides that ate up the ground.  

Her little sisters came in to watch with awed eyes, and she smiled and laughed and accepted their compliments because they must not know, they _would_ not know.  Not from her lips.  She would never let them know that father’s promise had been broken, and if that meant pretending she had chosen this, then she would pretend with all her heart.

“You’re beautiful, m’lady,” Tae said, holding a mirror up for her to see.

She looked into it and saw a stranger staring back.

“Thank you, Tae,” she said anyway.

One of her uncle’s retainers knocked on the screen, bowing as he opened it.

“Is all in readiness?”

“Yes,” Kaoru said, letting Tae help her to her feet.  “Is there time to stop at the altar, first?  I should say goodbye.”

The soldier looked at her for a moment, and she held his gaze.  An understanding passed between them, and he nodded.  His eyes held a terrible compassion.

So they walked the long way around the new house in the new capitol, to the room that held the great altar.  She bowed before each ancestor’s memorial, lighting incense and praying, and tried to imprint the memory of the place in her soul. 

Eventually, her escort began to shift nervously.  She was taking too long; if she lingered, it might insult her husband. 

Before she left, she took the twig and its blood-red leaf from her father’s altar and tucked it into her wedding kimono, over her heart.

Her clan was assembled in the forecourt to see her off: her aunt and uncle, her cousins in the first through third degrees, chief retainers and their wives and those children old enough to stand still and not disrupt the ceremony.  They flanked the path to the gate where her wedding palanquin waited at the head of her bridal procession. 

Her husband stood beside it, holding the reins of a stolid grey mare.  He was a smaller man than she’d expected: compact and agile, with ruddy hair drawn up in topknot.

And despite her morning of meditation, despite all her prayers for calm and her fierce self-discipline, fury flared in her heart.  So the clan needed her – so what?  How did that give them the right to trade her like so much meat, to sell her like a chest of kimono to a murdering _bastard_ –

Her father’s voice echoed in her memory. 

_Our lives do not belong to us, Kaoru_.

But he’d _promised_ : sworn to her mother, _on his swords_ , that their daughters would be free to choose, that they would never need to fear the unknown and gamble with their lives and bodies as the stakes that their husband would be a good man…

And her father was _dead_.  And her uncle headed the clan.  And if she did not do this, then all hope would be lost.  Her family would be masterless, landless, without status or wealth or holdings, and what would become of her sisters then?

Her shoulders drew back and she raised her head, knowing that it distorted the lines of her wedding kimono and not caring one whit that the cloth wanted her to bow her head and yield.  Her life did not belong to her, and never had: but her mind and heart and soul were hers to command.  This man she had been sold to would only ever have the least part of her.  That much, she could be sure of.

Kaoru walked into her future, standing tall

~*~

She held on to her defiance as she swayed in her palanquin, peering at the busy Edo streets though the barred window.  Passers-by stopped and bowed respectfully as the lavish procession passed.  Then they noticed the man riding next to her and began to whisper and crane their heads, hoping to catch a glimpse of the demon’s bride.  She turned and looked steadfastly forward, denying them the sight of anything more than her profile through the slats. 

She kept her back straight and her core strong as they arrived at his manor, nestled in the shadow of the shōgun’s palace, and refused to be afraid.  Instead, she fixed her eyes on her husband’s back as she followed him into the great hall and held her face in careful neutrality as they knelt side by side.  The priest spoke his words and waved his branches; she sipped sake that she couldn’t taste; and then they were married.

The reception was a tense, quiet affair, broken only when her sisters suddenly threw themselves onto the dais and into her arms, wailing that they would miss her.  The room drew a frightened breath and every eye fixed on her husband, wondering how he would respond.  Kaoru ignored them as pointedly as she could.

“It’s not so bad,” she told her sisters briskly as they sniffled into her skirts.  “I’ll be home for the first visit in just three days, remember?  And I’ll come see you whenever I can after that.”

“Promise?” Ayame looked up at her with tearstained eyes. 

“ _Double_ promise?” Suzume chimed in.

“ _Triple_ promise,” she said, holding her sister’s hands, and that completed the spell.

She felt her husband’s eyes on her.

“Can we stay with you until the party’s over?” Ayame asked, all artlessness.

“Well,” Kaoru said, smoothing her hair.  “I’m not sure…”

“Let them stay,” he husband said abruptly.  It was the first time she’d heard his voice.  It was gentler than she’d thought it would be.

“They can stay,” he said again.  She risked a glance at him, but his eyes were fixed on his food and shielded by his strange, light hair.  Dyed by the blood of his victims, so the stories said, and it could almost be the color of dried arterial blood in the diffused candlelight.

“Thank you, my lord husband,” she said carefully, bowing as much as she could without dislodging her headdress.  The words felt strange in her mouth.  He shrugged – _it’s nothing_ – and the room exhaled. 

Her sisters stayed with her until it was time for all the guests to leave.  They played together, and sang and told stories, and she burned every moment into herheart.  But she could feel her husband’s eyes on her the entire time and wanted to shudder. 

Her courage faltered as the reception ended and she was ushered into the bath house to be prepared for her wedding night.  Tae had established dominion over the household in the hours since the ceremony and seen to it that everything was exactly as Kaoru preferred, from the temperature of the water to the lightly-scented incense burning in a high nook.  She dismissed the attendants – Kaoru preferred to cleanse herself – and stayed behind, because of course Kaoru could not be left entirely alone.  Not in circumstances such as this.

Steam rose from the tub, filling the room.  Kaoru perched herself on the bench and scrubbed automatically, taking none of her usual pleasure in the process.

Tae sighed from the corner where she knelt silently, watching over Kaoru as she had since her mother died.

“What is it?” Kaoru stood, dumping a final bucket of water over herself before climbing into the bath. 

“I only wish there was something I could do, dear,” Tae said quietly.  “Your father…”

The water was bone-meltingly hot, just as she liked it, and Kaoru sank into it with a grateful sigh.  On top of everything else, her wedding regalia had been as heavy as armor and twice as constricting.  At least she would go to her sacrificial bed without knotted muscles.

“Don’t talk about it,” she said firmly.  “It doesn’t do any good.”

“Are you sure you can go through with this?”

“It’s a little late for second thoughts, Tae.”  Kaoru rested her folded arms on the side of the tub.  “What choice do I have?”

“There are ways…” Tae said vaguely.  “Whatever the stories say, he still has a man’s body.  And I’m sure you remember…”

“I know.”  She remembered Tae’s lessons: herbs and potions and small woman’s magics, to ensure children of one sex or the other, to inspire and to stifle desire, to protect against fire and disease and evil omen.  “But… if he doesn’t – if he’s not _happy_ …  What if he divorces me, and disclaims our clan?  Then…”

She closed her eyes.

“I have to do this,” she said, small and frightened.  “I have to.”

Tae made no further objections.

Kaoru stayed in the tub until one of the maids entered, trembling, and informed her that her lord husband awaited her.  Then she rose, toweled herself dry, and donned a thin silk sleeping robe.  The maid tried to help her and Tae shooed her off, casting an apologetic glance at Kaoru.  It made her smile, a little.  They didn’t know her here, not yet; it had been a long time since the staff at her family home had tried to coddle her.

She walked along the covered stone path across the garden to the porch and the open bedroom door.  Her husband knelt at the head of the joined futons, waiting for her.  He was also dressed for bed, and had taken his hair out of its topknot and drawn it back at the nape of his neck.  She knelt across from him, and her damp hair spread heavy across her back.

“Forgive the delay, honored husband,” she said, bowing so deeply that her forehead brushed the mats.  “I beg your patience in the coming days.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said, in that same unexpectedly warm tone.  “It’s been a long day for us both, so it has.”

She straightened, then; to her immense surprise, he bowed as well.

“One prays for your patience in the days ahead as well, honored wife,” he said.  Then he sighed. “But, as it has been a long day, perhaps we should retire.”

“As you wish, my lord.”  She froze like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, numb-fingered, unable even to fight her fate.  Her heart raged in her breast as she stared at the mats, refusing to close her eyes, and waited for the first hard touch of his hands. 

“Sleep well, my lady wife,” he said, and she heard cloth rustle. 

She looked up, confused.  He stood, smiling down at her – he smiled like a little boy, clear and guileless – and bowed slightly to her as he left the room.

And Kaoru had no idea what to think.

~*~

They’d told her the name of the man she was to marry after the peace accords were settled: signed, sealed, and witnessed, and she was part of them.  Her hand was given to their new lord as surety that her clan would not be cast entirely aside.  It was the only concession that her uncle had been able to wring and so he had agreed blindly, selling her into an unknown fate to save them all. 

She’d known that she was to be sold, but had only learned to whom a week before her wedding.  Her uncle had come into the room where she was waiting, family elders filing behind him, and they had all knelt and bowed low as priests to an honored sacrifice.

Then her uncle had looked up at her, pity and horror warring on his face, and told her who her husband would be. 

Her first thought had been: _this is not real_.  But her senses had told her otherwise, and it seemed to her that she had never felt the world so keenly.  The noon sun had filtered through the shoji and scattered, sheathing the world in a terrible radiance.  Somewhere far away, she had heard her little sisters playing.  Or perhaps they were some other children. 

No, she’d decided, they would be her sisters.  She would accept her fate with their fearless laughter in her ears.

And she’d returned his bow, just as deeply.

“Thank you, honored uncle,” she said clearly, “for this chance to serve the clan.”

But she hadn’t been able to keep a bitter smile from her face.

They had sold her to shōgun’s demon, to the man who had cut a bloody swath through the Hojo and turned the tide at Sekigahara.  The man who was, according to rumor, not truly a man at all but a monster bound in human form.  Where he walked, it was said, he left bloody footprints; and the scar that marked his face would open and run red when battle-lust was on him.  He could cross a room in the blink of an eye and kill five men with each swing of his sword, a sword that drank the blood of those it slew. 

He had killed his first wife with his own hands for her disloyalty, and would do the same to anyone who betrayed him.

So she was not to be a bride after all, but a sacrifice.

That was what she had resigned herself to.  She had prepared for her wedding as for her death in battle, ready to yield up her body for the honor of the Kamiya.  And then her husband had bid her goodnight with a gentle smile and left.  As if she was nothing more than a houseguest.

Kaoru rose slowly to her feet, fists clenched.  She took a deep breath and let the cool twilight air sit in her lungs for a heartbeat before she expelled it slowly.

Then she marched into her adjoining suite, almost slamming the door behind her.  Tae scrambled up from where she had been unpacking.

“My lady…?”

“Nothing happened,” she ground out.

“Nothing…?”

“Nothing,” and her knees went suddenly weak, “happened.  Nothing at all…”

Then Tae was at her side, supporting her as all the rage and fear she had knotted up inside herself came flooding out.  She sobbed into her nurse’s side, and Tae crooned to her, rocking, as though she were a little girl again.

“He didn’t touch me,” Kaoru gasped out between sniffs.  “He didn’t even – Tae, I don’t understand!”

Tae shushed her, stroking her hair, and managed to coax her onto the futon she’d prepared, in case Kaoru’s husband was the sort who preferred not to sleep separately once the marital duties were done.

“There now, my lady,” Tae said softly.  “Rest.  Things will be easier to make sense of in the morning.”

Kaoru wanted to protest: she was not a child.  But she had been strung tight as a bowstring for days now and to have that tension suddenly relieved was too much to bear.  And it was so easy to sink under the covers, curl into a ball, and pretend that nothing had changed.  That Ayame and Suzume were in the next room, tangled in their bedding, and her father’s garden was outside, and when she woke up it would be to the smell of miso and the sound of her sisters protesting the early hour, or chattering about a festival, or arguing over who would wear a favorite ribbon.

She choked back another sob.

“What am I going to _do,_ Tae?”

“For now?”  Tae leaned over and blew out the lamp.  “Nothing, little one.  Do nothing.  Wait and see.”

“But…”

“Patience is not weakness, Kaoru.”  Tae’s voice was firm.  “You’re tired, dear heart.  You’ll only chase yourself in circles if you try sort it all out now.”

She wanted to protest, but the blankets were heavy and warm around her, and the room was dark and silent, and she _was_ tired, as tired as she had ever been.  Also, there was a strange scent in the air, gentle and soothing and it made her eyes feel so very heavy…

“…Tae?”

“Hmm…?”

“Did you… incense…?”

“Of course.  You need your rest, after all,” Tae said serenely.

But Kaoru was already asleep.

~*~

The moon had risen and was glowing soft through the clouds, like foxfire in mist.  Kenshin let his head fall against the wooden pillar on the porch outside his room and half-closed his eyes, softening the stark lines of the garden.  A flask of sake and a cup sat on a tray next to him; some of it had been poured and left untouched, cooling in the night air.

“The stars in autumn, was it?” he said quietly, to no one in particular; the only person who would have understood the comment was years and miles away.  “They’re not out tonight.”

The day had been grey, not wet but threatening wetness.  The rains would start soon. 

He let his hand rest on his sword, drawing comfort from its presence. 

The shōgun’s demon.  Lord Tokugawa had very nearly smiled when he’d first heard the name; it had been a public audience, after all, and more than that would be uncouth.  Later, in private, he’d roared with laughter and slapped Kenshin on the back, proud of his retainer, proud of the legend that added to his esteem, and amused beyond words at how a thing could be both true and not. 

Kenshin sighed, reaching for the sake, and then thought better of it.  He wasn’t going to sleep tonight.  Sake wasn’t going to help.  The house was different now, and he just wasn’t going to get any rest until he’d accustomed himself to the feel of the new lives within it, to their rhythms and natures.  All that drinking would do was get him drunk, and his wife was frightened enough as it was.

Instead, he tucked his arms in his sleeves and settled cross-legged against the pillar.

It wasn’t as if he’d wanted to marry her.  He’d never met her, never even seen her face until that morning.  Lord Tokugawa had summoned him two weeks ago and told him he was to marry, and he had bowed low.

“Eminence,” he’d said carefully, pressing his fingers hard against the mat.  “One is honored by your concern.  However – ”

“You have no desire to marry again.  I know.”  The great man had snorted, disturbing the hawk perched on his wrist, and he’d taken a moment to soothe her.  “It’s not healthy for a man to live his whole life without a woman.  You don’t even have a favorite courtesan, for heaven’s sake – don’t argue with me, Himura.”

Kenshin had been about to protest further.  He’d sat up and back on his heels, instead.

“Forgive one’s impertinence, my lord,” he’d murmured.

“I’m wary of this clan,” Lord Tokugawa had continued, fussing with the hawk’s jesses.  “I admire their tenacity; I’m told their former lord died well.  But they still remain a dagger at my back, and I need strong, loyal hands to bring them to heel.  Which your previous experience leaves you well equipped to do so.”

And Kenshin hadd tried to hide it, really; but he’d known what had been written on his face. 

“Is it your belief, then, that one will be called upon…?”

“No,” his lord had said, flatly.  “I do not refer to that _particular_ incident.  Only to what came before.”

“If this is your will, then,” he’d said, bowing again, because there was nothing more to say, “one will fulfill it.”

“Himura.”  Lord Tokugawa had said it casually, as if it had no weight: and why not, when they were in the presence of retainers and subordinates who had no need to understand.  “Regarding that specific incident… should such a thing be required once more, I will grant you the request I have previously denied.”

“Thank you.  My lord.”

“You are dismissed.”

And that had been that.  He’d left the arrangements to his lord and resigned himself to the situation.

He closed his eyes completely, head drooping forward, and sighed heavily, fingering the binding on the hilt of his sword.

His new wife had been crying.  He hadn’t intended to hear it, but he’d started pacing out of sheer habit and forgotten that those rooms were inhabited, now.  So he’d passed by them, instead of avoiding them, and heard it.  Only for a moment before he’d hurried on, ashamed of invading her privacy; but he hated that he was so terrible a fate, and hated that he hated it, because what right did he have spy on her private anguish?  He wasn’t the one who’d been sacrificed.

Kenshin cast a longing glance at the sake.  Then he reached out and carefully overturned the flask, pouring the alcohol into the soil.  There.  Temptation removed.

He was too honest when he drank.  If he drank, he might go to her – after all, she couldn’t keep him out.  He might go to her and try to explain, that he wasn’t a demon, that he would never hurt her, that he would honor and protect her even if he hadn’t noticed and admired her pride and her courage, her tender care for her sisters and the sheer flint-edged _stubbornness_ glinting out from those deep blue eyes…

…and then she’d come into the bedroom still damp from her bath, jasmine-scented steam clinging like gauze and her long hair spreading across her shoulders and down her back.  It had wet the silk of the bathrobe, made it cling to her, and he’d been able to see the outline of her hard curves.  She’d knelt in front of him like a warrior going into battle, all her strength and her terrible resolve offered up to him as tribute.  In one searing moment, he’d wanted it to be real.  For her to be coming to him as a bride, and not a sacrifice.  So that he’d have an excuse to reach out and smooth the damp strands of hair from her eyes, to cup her face in his hands and…

Kenshin groaned and slammed his head back against the pillar.  Then he stood up, rubbing gingerly at the lump.

Right.  No sleep.  No drinking.  Only one option left.

He picked up his sword and headed for the dojo.

~*~ 

Kenshin had dozed a little towards the end of the night, propped against the wall of the dojo with his sword in his arms.  Not true sleep, only a resting of the eyes.  He had been too keenly aware of the changes in his environment for that, too uncertain of what tomorrow would bring. 

He’d half-expected the lady to plead exhaustion and sleep in, the better to avoid her demon-groom.  Yet when he padded wearily into the dining room an hour or so after dawn she was already there, kneeling beside a small raised tray with her hands crossed demurely on her lap.

“…good morning, honored wife.”  He lingered in the doorway, suddenly unsure.  “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well, honored husband.”  Her voice was carefully even, betraying no emotion.  “Please forgive the delay.  The meal should be ready shortly.”

“That’s fine,” he said absently, edging into the room.  “Have you eaten yet?”

A light blush crossed her face and he remembered: of course not.  Nor could she, now that he was here: a wife’s duty was to serve her husband, and she would have to delay her own breakfast until he was done.  If he’d been thinking he would have lingered in the dojo another hour, or taken a bath, done something to give her a chance to eat before she had to attend to him.

“Himura, you idiot,” he muttered to himself, and only realized he’d said it aloud when she looked up suddenly.  “On second thought,” he said quickly, covering.  “One would prefer to bathe, first.  Please inform – ”

But the door to the kitchen was already sliding open and three maids were filing in, eyes downcast.  Two of them he vaguely recognized; he didn’t really know any of the household servants, but he’d learned their faces as much as he could when they were so careful to never meet his eyes.  The third, who he didn’t know at all, moved with graceful assurance and knelt next to Lady Kaoru, ignoring him completely as she set a tray of tea things in front of the lady.

“My lady.”

“Thank you, Tae,” Lady Kaoru murmured.  “That will be all.”

The maid looked up then, and a strange looked passed between her and her lady, questioning and reassuring.  The loyal retainer in attendance, in the last moment before the final battle.

Kenshin looked away from the little drama in front of him, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.  It said something about Lady Kaoru, that she could inspire someone to follow her into the demon’s lair.  Confirmed it, really; he’d noticed it as soon as her little sisters had thrown themselves at her skirts, bawling.  He could _feel_ the pain and fear radiating from her but she’d hidden it from them, smiling and assuring them without words that everything would be fine.

One hand, hidden behind his back, clenched into a fist.

The maids left, filing obediently after Tae like ducklings following their mother, and Kenshin turned his attention back to the lady.  Her shoulders straightened and her chin rose fractionally: he could almost see the white cloth wrapped around her legs and the dagger in her hands, rising towards her neck –

He looked sharply away.

“Please, honored husband,” she said, bowing.  “Won’t you partake of the morning meal?”

Kenshin forced a smile onto his face and took a step into the room.

“Since it has already been prepared.”  He knelt at the tray holding his meal. “One is honored to receive it.”

Lady Kaoru poured a cup of tea and offered it.  He declined it quietly, watching her only from the corner of his eyes. 

“One prefers not to drink at meals.”

“I see.”

She knelt silently at right angles to him.  He studied her profile as much as he could without making it obvious that he was staring.  She was… pretty.  Not beautiful – he’d seen beautiful – but there was an indescribable _realness_ to her that the oiran and the court beauties lacked.  They were ephemeral creatures, all smoke and silk and moonlight on water, and she was – solid, and _there_ , warm in a way that the beauties he’d known never were.  The kind of warmth that a man could curl himself around, safe in the knowledge that he would never freeze again…

_A_ man.  Right.  Not _this_ man.

But he still couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He finished his rice and held out the bowl for more without thinking.  She took it, and as she did so the tips of their fingers brushed together.  It shook him to the bone and he froze, hand outstretched as though he was grasping for her sleeve.

“Honored husband?”

She was looking straight at him, confusion in her eyes and a dawning… fear.  Of course.  What else could he expect, when he was acting so strangely?

“Apologies,” he said shortly, rising.  “It seems one was not so hungry after all.  The fault is not the cook’s – it was a feast.  One only seems to have no appetite this morning.”

And now he was babbling.  He turned quickly towards the door, almost knocking over the tray.

“One should prefer to take a bath now, so I should.  If anything is required, one will be in dojo today, I will.  Even in peaceful times, one’s sword must be kept sharp, mustn’t it?”

The lady was staring at him now, and he saw her thoughts written in those blue eyes that a man could spend his life drowning in: _not only a demon, but a blithering lunatic_.  Kenshin closed his eyes briefly, pained.

“Your pardon, please.  Honored wife.”

And then he fled, wondering if there were enough words for all the kinds of idiot he was.

~*~ 

There was a summons from Lord Tokugawa waiting for him when he got out of the bath.  The shōgun would be holding court in the gardens of Grand Outer Palace in the Inner Citadel, and requested his presence as soon as he was available.  It was gently phrased, given that it _was_ the day after his wedding, but it was still an order; so Kenshin donned his black court clothing and went, hair drying on the way.

An audience was already underway when he arrived.  A lord he didn’t recognize was kneeling on the platform below the shōgun, in the middle of some indirectly phrased petition about something or other.  Kenshin settled himself quietly by the door and tried to pay attention.

“…therefore, given the situation, we of the Mōri clan beg His Eminence to reconsider the decision to relocate our capitol so far from the lands which we have always held and defended.”

The lord was young, Kenshin realized belatedly, barely past his coming-of-age.  Not the head of the clan, then, but a representative.  The tall black court cap sat awkwardly on him, not quite fitting.  The boy did an admirable job of keeping himself under control, but he could see the nervous energy crackling in the young man’s veins.  Lord Tokugawa frowned.

“And where is Lord Mōri?  Why does he send another to petition on his behalf?”

The boy swallowed.  “My lord uncle’s health is not good,” he said weakly.  “It was determined by his doctors that he should not travel at such a time.”

“Hmph.”  Lord Tokugawa looked down at the papers on the desk in front of him, shuffling through them.  It was a ploy, Kenshin knew, used either to buy time or increase the tension.  Probably that latter, in this case.  “Lord Mōri led the Western Army, did he not?”

“He was one of the commanders of that force, Eminence.  Yet, our forces were not present for the battle, instead being deployed to protect Lord Toyotomi at Osaka…”

“An admirable cause.”  The Shōgun looked down at the papers again.  “And yet, it displays a certain cowardice.”

“…Eminence?”  The boy paled, and Kenshin stifled a sigh. 

“If Lord Mōri had displayed the courage to openly oppose me, I would have granted him an honorable death,” Lord Tokugawa said sharply.  “Similarly, had he been decisive enough to side with me, his boldness would have recognized.  Yet, Lord Mōri chose the path of least resistance, neither devoting himself wholly to his overlord nor daring to stand against him.  A lord who cannot commit does not deserve to have his commitments honored.  My decision stands.”

The boy was white as rice paper now, save for two red spots of rage high on his cheeks.  He bowed low.

“I apologize for troubling you with this impertinent request, Eminence.”

“See that you do not trouble me again.  Dismissed.”

The boy stood, gathering his robes around him, and went to leave.  Then he spotted Kenshin sitting by the door, and against all reason and biological probability managed to get even paler.  Kenshin looked away.

He couldn’t move out of the way.  He outranked the boy.  To yield before him would dishonor the status Lord Tokugawa had bestowed on him and therefore, by extension, Lord Tokugawa.  So he was just going to have to sit here, politely ignoring the situation, until the boy found the nerve to pass within inches of the shōgun’s demon.

The boy’s throat worked.  Then he stared straight ahead and marched past.  Well.  Points for courage, if not for brains; then again, he was only the messenger and Lord Mōri never had been the quickest thinker, so it was hardly fair to blame him for the petition he’d had to deliver.

“Lord Himura,” the shōgun said, inclining his head in greeting.  “We did not expect you to join us so early.”

“Eminence.”  Kenshin bowed.  “One came as soon as the summons was received.”

“Ah.”  The very mildest hint of disapproval, there, and Kenshin found himself hard-pressed to care.  An order to marry was not an order to bed, after all.  “Come, take your proper seat.”

“As my lord wishes,” he said blandly and moved to the head of the chamber, taking his place on the platform below the shōgun, at his right side.

“And how is your honored wife?”

“The honorable lady is… adjusting, Eminence.”

“Oh?”

“One does not believe the lady had ever traveled before arriving in Edo for our wedding,” Kenshin invented furiously.  “It was a tiring experience.”

“I see.”  That seemed to satisfy him, and he gestured to the retainer closest to the door.  “Bring the next one in.”  Then, quietly, to Kenshin specifically.  “Pay attention to this one; I want your thoughts on it.”

The morning of audiences dragged on, and despite his best efforts Kenshin quickly lost track what was going on.  So many of the petitions were the same: I was given this, I’d like something else.  This was done, but it shouldn’t have been.  I was promised that, but received the other thing.  Only the names involved ever changed.

When noon rolled around, Lord Tokugawa dismissed everyone except Kenshin and called for food.  He sent his guards outside, too, and stood.

“That’s better,” he said, stretching.  “Well, Himura?  What did you think?”

“…of?”

The shōgun waved his hand, silently encompassing the audience chamber and all that had gone on there.  Kenshin blinked and tried to pummel his thoughts into something coherent.

“…that one is grateful to be only Lord Himura, and not shōgun, that I am.”

Lord Tokugawa snorted, amused, and began to pace around the chamber.  “I’m told you haven’t met with your administrators yet?”

Kenshin shook his head, once.  “That is not so.  One has met them, and seeing that they were all competent for the task…” He spread out his hands, helplessly.  “One does not wish to interfere, so long as all is in order.  Is it your desire that one take a more active hand?”

“No, not an order.  Only a suggestion – ” 

The door slid open and conversation paused while the maids brought in lunch.  They ate without conversing, as custom dictated, focusing on the food.  Kenshin barely tasted it.  Afterwards, Lord Tokugawa dismissed the maids and they sat in silence for a little while, sipping tea. 

“It’s hardly unusual to leave the administration of your lands completely to your subordinates,” the shōgun said at last.  “But I had thought you would take an interest.”

“My lord knows that I have no head for politics,” Kenshin murmured.  “One does not wish to be a bother to those of greater skill with such matters.”

Lord Tokugawa laughed.  “It’s not all politics, Himura.  After all your talk of bringing a new world into being, have you no desire whatsoever to live in it?”

“One… that is to say…” Kenshin turned the teacup in his hands, watching the foam swirl white-on-green.  “It is not so simple as that.”

“It never is.  But, Kenshin,” and here Kenshin looked up, because the shōgun had only used his given name twice in the fifteen years they’d been vassal and lord.  “…it’s been ten years.”

In another man, Kenshin might have called his voice gentle.

“One is,” and Kenshin swallowed down a sudden catch in his throat, “very much aware of how long it has been.  My lord.”

Lord Tokugawa sighed.

“If I had known, then…” he said, addressing himself more than Kenshin.  “Well, it can’t be helped.  The Lady Kaoru, then.  Does she please you?”

And Kenshin was, abruptly, completely sick of it all. 

“She’s terrified of me,” he said flatly.  “She’s been sold to a demon, and she’s waiting to be devoured.  No, my lord, it doesn’t _please_ me to have a wife who thinks herself a sacrifice.  Would it please you?”

“Shall I order you divorced, then?”  Lord Tokugawa said it so casually that for a split second Kenshin found himself considering it.  He could release her, untouched.  She could go home and marry – marry someone else.  Someone more suitable.  Someone who didn’t trail bloody myths behind him like a ragged banner; she’d have no choice in who she wed because women never did, but at least she’d marry a _man_ –

He’d never see her again. 

And she would always be marked.  She would be the demon’s bride for the rest of her life, and what kind of man, exactly, would take the hand of a woman tainted by such a legend? 

“…No.  What she did – she has behaved, in all ways, with honor.”  He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice; the only way to soften it was to remember the proud set of her shoulders when she spoke to him.  “She is a woman of extraordinary valor.  One does not wish to dishonor her with divorce.”

“I see.”  Lord Tokugawa raised an eyebrow.  “Well.  Give it time, Himura.  Perhaps I’ll have the Lady Kame pay her a visit; it will do her good to have some female companionship.”

“As you wish,” Kenshin said, because there was nothing else he could say.

~*~ 

The shōgun had dismissed him after lunch.  Kenshin had considered going home; then he’d remembered what was waiting for him there and decided to find something else to do for the rest of the day.

That was why he found himself standing outside the barracks that housed his personal guard and the chief administrators of his estate.  He’d only visited here once before, to meet chief members of his staff.  He had yet to actually tour his new lands.  Hito province was about a day’s travel from Edo, not very wealthy when compared to other fiefs, and known primarily for turning out artists, scholars, and priests.  The Kamiya family had been patrons of the arts since the Kamakura shōgunate, and even the warriors of Hito province were renowned for their intellectual bent.

He wondered, sometimes, if giving him this domain had been Lord Tokugawa’s idea of a joke. 

Eventually, he would have to travel there and take up residence.  But the shōgun desired him to reside in Edo for the first year of the new regime, so here he was and here he’d stay.  It was probably better that way.  It would give his people – and there was a terrifying thought – a chance to learn that nothing was going to change.  For everyone to settle in a bit before the demon came home to roost.

The guards outside the barracks bowed as he approached.  There were two of them, and older man and a younger one.  The younger was remarkably skinny, and Kenshin found himself wondering how his armor stayed on. 

Kenshin returned the bow with a nod.  He had tried to bow back properly to his retainers only once, when he had just been elevated; it had touched off a remarkable chain of bows, each one trying to be deeper than the last, which he’d been hard-pressed to return until he realized that returning the bows was triggering even more bowing, at which point he’d decided to err on the side of not giving everyone whiplash from then on.  It still felt strange, though, to bow to so few people.

“How may we be of service, my lord?”

“One wishes to…” Whatever he said had to be non-committal, something that couldn’t be interpreted as a criticism.  “Check on the progress of the transition, that I do.”

The older guard blanched.  “Is – is it not satisfactory, my lord?”

Dammit. 

“Ah – that’s not the case, it is not,” he said quickly.  “One is curious, only.”

“Mr. Iwaji,” the guard said, nodding to his counterpart.  “Go and tell Mr. Uramura that our lord wishes to make an inspection.”

“A – at once, honored elder brother!” the boy said in a rush, and darted off.  The elder Iwaji paled and bowed to him again.  Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Please forgive my worthless younger brother’s lapse in protocol,” he said, fear straining his voice.  “Allow this lowly one to assure you that he will be disciplined for it.”

Kenshin furrowed his brow in confusion, and then realized that the boy had forgotten to bow before he ran off.

“That’s hardly necessary,” Kenshin objected, raising his hands in a peacemaking gesture.  “Is the lad new to the post?”

“Y – yes, my lord.” The guard swallowed.  “He came of age only last month.”

“Well, he shows spirit, that he does.  One is certain he will be a credit to your family, in time.  Ah – might one ask your name?”

“…Ichiro, my lord.  Ichiro Iwaji.”  The guard still hadn’t straightened from his bow.  It was starting to hurt Kenshin’s neck, looking down on him.

“Please stand up straight, Mr. Iwaji,” Kenshin asked mildly, and took a startled step backwards when Ichiro sprang up like a catapult.

“And what is your brother’s name?” Kenshin started to ask, and then said brother returned with a man Kenshin dimly recognized as his chief retainer, Uramura, in tow.

“My lord,” Uramura said, bowing.  He was about Kenshin’s age, although he looked older, and had a stern, narrow face.  “You wish to inspect our progress?”

“That’s so.”  Kenshin tucked his hands inside his sleeve.  “But only if it is not too great an interruption, that is.”

“Not at all, my lord.”  He was telling the truth, mostly.  Kenshin weighed causing a minor inconvenience to others against going home to the Lady Kaoru, to her courage and her fierce pride and her endlessly deep blue eyes.

“In that case,” he said a little too quickly.  “Please, permit one to impose.”

His Edo household consisted of one hundred retainers, all samurai.  His seat at Hito hosted considerably more; however, they were needed throughout the province, to govern, administrate, and keep the peace.  All of them had served the late Lord Kamiya, although Uramura hastened to assure Kenshin that they were all completely obedient to the shōgun and understood absolutely that he, Lord Himura, was their master now. 

“That’s good,” Kenshin said absently, taking in the building.  Narrow corridors branched between large rooms that could be subdivided with screens.  The corridor floors were wooden; the rooms were covered in bamboo matting.  Slatted windows let sunlight in at strange angles, creating a slightly gloomy atmosphere.  He received the impression of a place that had quieted itself unnaturally in fear, when it was normally loud and slightly smelly, as places full of men living and working at close quarters tended to be.  Rather like a schoolroom when the headmaster enters.

Kenshin stifled a sigh.

“Pardon this lowly one.” Uramura said stiffly.  “However, since my lord is here, there is a small matter which requires your attention.”

“Oh?” Kenshin turned to face his chief retainer.  “What is it?”

“There is the matter of the initial inspection of the province.”  The chief retainer averted his eyes.  “This lowly self would humbly suggest that it be performed sooner, rather than later.”

“…oro?”  Kenshin covered his mouth with his sleeve, turning the exclamation into a cough.  “Your pardon.  Why is that, Mr. Uramura?”

Uramura bowed low, in the manner of one duty-bound to say what they’re about the say and fully aware that they will probably get their head bitten off regardless.

“Lord Himura, although there is not a single child in Japan who does not know your name, your retainers in Hito have yet to see your face.  If my lord would deign to visit with them, they would be most reassured.”

“…have they expressed concerns?”  He’d thought it would be the exact opposite, that they would be happy to keep their demon-lord as far away from them as possible.

“No one would dare to question your will, my lord.”  Uramura hesitated, then plowed ahead, and Kenshin felt a grudging admiration for his stubborn fulfillment of duty.  It was a chief retainer’s job to say things that his lord might not wish to hear, after all.  “However, the reports this lowly self has received indicate a degree of confusion over what the future is to hold.”

“Was it not made clear that one has no desire to change the traditional operation of the province?” 

“It was, my lord.  However, they are a foolish lot, and it seems they require a firmer hand then my lord might have believed.”

Which, credit where it’s due, was the most diplomatic way of saying ‘they think you’re lying’ that Kenshin had ever seen.  He nodded.

“One perceives the difficulty, Mr. Uramura, that I do.  However, as you know, the shōgun has asked one to reside in Edo until the year is out, so he has…”

“The lowly self has taken the liberty of beginning to make the appropriate inquiries.  The shōgun would be willing to grant my lord a week’s leave in which to tour his new estates.”

“I see.  In that case, then…”  In that case, he hardly had a choice.  If the local lords would be calmed by meeting their overlord, then he had to go; his orders were to ensure a smooth integration of the formerly rebellious province into Lord Tokugawa’s vision of the united Japan.  And doubtless the Lady Kaoru would prefer that they spend as much time apart as possible.

Unless…

“Mr. Uramura,” he asked, raising his eyes to study the ceiling.  Dust motes swirled in the afternoon light, like little dead stars in a golden stream.  “Have my honored wife’s uncle and his family left Edo?”

“Not yet, my lord.  He intends to depart after custom has been satisfied.”

He was waiting for the traditional visit, then.  On the third day of married life, bride and groom visited the bride’s former home to assure her family that all was well.  Kenshin wondered why he was bothering.  He certainly couldn’t expect to hear good news.

The Lady Kaoru had promised her sisters a visit, hadn’t she?

“In that case, please tell him that he may leave Edo at any time, that he may,” Kenshin said, smiling a little.  Maybe it would please her, to go home.  “As one must travel to the province regardless, it seems sensible to travel with the Lady Kaoru, and make the first visit in the process.  Does it not?”

Uramura blinked, taken aback.  “Um.  Well.  That is certainly possible, my lord.”

“Then it’s settled, it is,” Kenshin said, feeling better than he had in weeks. 

~*~ 

Kenshin spent the rest of the day holed up in a very tiny office with poor ventilation, receiving a far fuller briefing on the current state of his lands than he had really wanted.  His head was aching by the time they were done, and the silence of his manor – even as lonely and fearful as it was – came as a blessed relief.

He had sent ahead with his time of arrival, so that the Lady Kaoru would have time to eat her dinner before she had to serve him.  When he arrived, she was kneeling quietly by the tray already set with his meal.  She held herself proudly even in wifely submission, and he had to look very hard to notice the faint trembling in her fingers.

After he’d eaten, he cleared his throat.

“Honored wife.”

“My lord husband,” she said, bowing with the dignity of a captive empress.  “How was your day?”

“Ah – productive.  There is one matter of which you should be aware, that there is.”

She tilted her head slightly, and a strand of hair fell into her eyes.  He wanted very badly to smooth it away, and took a gulp of tea instead.  A larger one that was wise, as it happened, and he choked a little.

“That is that matter – of the first visit.  Since it seems one is required to tour the province sooner rather than later, it seemed sensible to combine the two duties, that it did.  Therefore, if it’s agreeable, would you be so kind as to accompany one on a visit to your childhood home?”

Shock filled her eyes, although her face barely twitched.

“I – that would be – I would be most happy, honored husband,” she said quietly.  And happily.  She hid it carefully, but he could see it.

He could also see the creeping wariness tainting that relief.

“Good,” he said, standing to leave before he did something stupid, like take hold of one of those graceful hands and beg her not to fear him. 

“Sleep well, honored wife,” he said, and went to bed alone.


	2. more than glass between

Kenshin sighed and marked the sun where it stood, almost at the roof of the sky. The arrival of a new lord at his home castle could not, it seemed, be allowed to pass without ceremony. He understood the purpose – continuity, giving the people a chance to glimpse the new ruler, giving the subordinate nobility a chance to assess him – but that didn't make it any less dreadfully dull. And unnecessary. He had no intention of changing anything; his orders were only to ensure the province transitioned smoothly and stayed loyal. That was all. He wasn't here to rule them.

He schooled his face to careful stillness as another subordinate lord knelt and introduced himself. It wasn't this fellow – what had his name been? Makino? – anyway, it wasn't his fault that Kenshin was tired and bored and wanted to be tucked safely out of everyone's way so that Uramura and everyone who actually knew what they were doing could get down to business.

The Lady Kaoru was already settling in. As a woman, she didn't need to attend these ceremonies. Lucky her. Lucky him; as boring and mildly ridiculous as this all was – if these people had any idea where he'd been born, who he really was! – at least the ceremony would eat up most of the morning.

It was amazing how many ways a desperate man could find to keep himself busy. Training, for one thing: Lord Himura's Edo estate included a full company of soldiers and a duty to see them properly trained and equipped. At least, that was what Kenshin told his blank-faced, mildly horrified commanders. The truth was that he didn't have the slightest idea how one went about using troops in battle. He had always fought alone, so he'd never needed to command or be commanded except in a general sort of "the enemy's over there, have at" way. So he had sat on a pavilion, watching the exercises, and tried to pick up some of the basics in the two days before he left to tour his province.

But – and this was important – being a nuisance to his retainers got him out of the house and away from his unwilling wife, from her graceful hands and her bright blue eyes and the wary confusion in them whenever she looked at him. He wished that he could simply tell her. Fear sat so uneasily on her, stifled the pure spark of her soul.

Except – what would he tell her, exactly? The stories were somewhat exaggerated, but they weren't entirely wrong. He could cross a room and slay five men in a single movement, and he had killed his first wife.

So he couldn't say it's not true, any of it because it was true, all of it.

He could tell her I will never hurt you, but he'd learned the hard way not to make those kinds of promises. And anyway, what surety could he offer her that she would accept? By law and custom he had complete power over her. If he gave his word and chose to break it later, he wouldn't be censured and she would have no recourse.

Not that he would ever break his word. But again, she had no way of knowing that, and no reason to believe it.

So he'd stayed away. Mostly. He saw her every morning and evening, at meals, because he couldn't quite bear not to. She spoke little and said even less: mild pleasantries and meaningless inquiries that never turned into a proper conversation.

Three days into his marriage and all he knew about his wife was this: her name was Kaoru, she had two little sisters, and she'd been sold into marriage to preserve her family.

But… that was how it should be. All things considered. He hadn't expected to feel this strongly, hadn't wanted to care what his wife thought of him. He couldn't – not again. A man could only bear so much. So it was a good thing that she held herself so carefully away from him, from all that he was, from his unfortunate habit of destroying everything he tried to hold on to.

The ceremony dragged on. Kenshin kept a polite, neutral smile on his face and went through the motions of accepting his retainers' fealty as gracefully as he could. He noted the name that went with each face and tried to attach at least one pertinent fact to it, grimly resigned to confusing most of them for each other and hoping that someone would be brave enough to correct him when he started calling people by the wrong name.

Eventually, just in time for the noon meal, the ceremony ended and he ran out of reasons to stay away from his new quarters. Besides, he didn't want to be any more of a burden than he'd already been. Uramura and the others doubtlessly had very important work to do that would only be delayed by his presence.

At Edo Castle his quarters were a mansion located in an external complex, as he was only a vassal to the lord-in-residence. The lord-in-residence at Hito Castle was himself, so his quarters were at the very center of the sprawling edifice, set atop a high stone hill and protected by a labyrinth of walls, roads, and barracks.

Kenshin knew as soon as he entered the interior keep that the Lady Kaoru was there. He could feel her presence. Well. She was probably holed up in her suite, so he'd stay in his. Which was very close to hers, actually, not more than a single room between them.

He closed his eyes and swallowed.

"My lord?"

There was that maid again, the one that Lady Kaoru had brought with her. Tae, that was her name. She bowed very properly to him, and he was struck once again by the air of palpable suspicion – bordering on outright menace at times – that radiated from her whenever she spoke to him. At least she did speak to him. Most of the maids wouldn't dare, unless he addressed them first.

It was a good thing that she was so protective of her mistress. It was a good thing to have an ally, even if she didn't know she was one.

"Will my lord take the noon meal in the dining room?"

"In the – " He shook his head. "No. One will dine in his room."

"Shall this lowly self send the lady to attend my lord?"

"No, no," he said a little too quickly. "The lady must be tired from traveling. One does not wish to trouble her with such a minor matter."

"As my lord wishes." She bowed again and strode off, and he had the disconcerting feeling of having passed some sort of test, but only barely.

He followed a second maid to his suite, dismissed her, and shut the door behind him. Then he shucked off the ceremonial jacket, hung it neatly on the stand, pulled open the door to the courtyard garden and abruptly forgot what he was doing.

The garden was small; it contained itself neatly within the parameters established by the courtyard. A bright red maple spread its branches protectively over a small pond in one corner, its shadow embracing the mossy stones. Soft moss and fine grasses covered the ground, curling over the edges of the wide-set, irregularly-shaped flat stones that formed a winding path across the courtyard.

Kenshin stepped off the porch and onto the first stone, brushing aside the wisteria hanging heavy off the edge of the porch roof. The day had started grey and cleared, and the noon sun was pouring down into the courtyard. Here, past the flowers that framed the view from the porch, it was easy to imagine himself in some secluded grotto, wreathed with sunlight.

The summer rains were beginning; the mass of hydrangeas set diagonally from the pond were deepening to a rich blue shot through with violet. They would hold court until the cool autumn leeched away their color and, eventually, killed them. Then the maple would gain prominence and hold that position through autumn and beyond, as the winter snows draped themselves across its leafless bones. But spring would inevitably come, heralded by the bright pink mossflowers that lined the remaining edges of the garden and celebrated in full by the bright white wisteria cascading down to meet them.

And meanwhile the space at the center of the garden would stay clean and clear, an empty space from which to view the slow turning the seasons.

He tilted his face towards the sun, closing his eyes against the bright heat.

"…my lord husband."

His eyes snapped open. Lady Kaoru was standing across the garden from him, one hand still trailing through the wisteria. She had changed from her traveling clothes to a simpler yukata and taken her hair out of its elaborate dressing. He had only seen her dressed so casually once before, on their wedding night.

"Honored wife," he said, throat dry. "Ah – this garden. One was curious."

She kept her eyes demurely averted, like a shy and proper wife, but the downward twist of her mouth and the firm set of her shoulders turned it into an act of defiance. Kenshin found that he couldn't look away from her, even as he was overwhelmed with the sense that he had interrupted some private moment.

"...It was my father's," she said finally, stepping away from the porch and letting the dying wisteria trail through her fingers. "He designed it for my mother, for their first anniversary."

She knelt to finger one of the leaves of the hydrangea.

"He must have been a master," Kenshin said quietly. She looked up at him and a smile flitted across her face, like the brief scatter of a carp's bright scales in clouded water.

"He wasn't," and her voice was rich with amusement, and love, and grief. "But he had a teacher – an old friend of his father's, of my grandfather. Master Oguni. Father…"

She stood. Kenshin saw her breathe, deeply, and she closed her eyes just a little longer than a blink. There was a small, bitter, not-quite-a-smile on her lips.

"It's not doing so well," she said, still not meeting his eyes. "Father never let anyone else tend the place, not even after mother died. I don't know who'll take of it now that he's gone."

"If it's in poor health now, one can't imagine what it's like when properly tended, that I can't."

He hadn't quite meant to say that. Lady Kaoru glanced over at him, startled, and her gaze pierced him, riveting him in place. There was a faint crease between her eyes and confusion in her face, and she looked at him as though she could pry him open and read him like a book, if only give the time. He wanted her to read him. He wanted her know. He wanted to curl around that inner fire and warm himself…

He broke the moment with a nervous nod.

"Your pardon. Excuse me. But perhaps you would prefer – in any case, one should be preparing for the visit to your uncle's, that I should. One did not mean to intrude."

"You are my honored husband," she said flatly, eyes downcast again. But he could see her hands clenching, could see the pride and fury of a wild thing caged bright in the lines of her soul. "I am yours to command."

Kenshin wanted, more than anything, to tell her that it wasn't so. He would kneel at her feet, if he thought it would help, and tell her anything he thought she might believe if it meant she would fear him a little less. If it would make her truly smile at him, for him, even once.

Except he couldn't and he wouldn't, because there was nothing she would believe and rightly so. And what right did he have to even try?

"And you are my honored wife, so you are," he said. "One does not – one does not wish – "

It was his turn to take a sudden breath.

"It is unbecoming to treat one's wife with disrespect," he said finally. "Your pardon, honored wife. One shall begin preparing for the visit, now."

He bowed quickly and left, and felt Lady Kaoru's eyes on him as he walked inside.

If Uncle Miyauchi looked at her in that pitying, apologetic way one more time, Kaoru was going to slap him. Etiquette be damned.

Something must have shown in her eyes, because he blanched and looked quickly away. Lord Himura glanced between the two of them and cleared his throat. Aunt Kyoko trilled out a sudden laugh, shrill and nervous.

"Oh, forgive me," she tittered, covering her mouth with her sleeve. "Why, I was only recalling my own first visit home. Dear Miyauchi was so nervous, he nearly knocked over the teapot! I thought my honored father would start laughing right there – but of course he didn't, that would be terribly rude."

It might have served as an icebreaker, if her eyes hadn't been bright with terror.

"Well," Lord Himura smiled politely, and the corner of his eyes crinkled. "One will certainly try not to harm the teapots, that I will."

Aunt Kyoko tried not to flinch, and mostly succeeded. "Oh, I didn't mean to imply that you would, my lord," she fluttered. "I only thought to share an amusing story."

"Of course," he said mildly. "No offense was taken."

That only wound her tighter. Kaoru wondered idly if she was going faint. Aunt Kyoko had always been high-strung.

"Aunt," she broke in, to spare them all, "Are Ayame and Suzume well?"

"Oh – yes!" Her aunt forced a smile to her face. "They are so looking forward to visiting with you this evening."

"This evening?" Concern jolted her, and Kaoru leaned forward. "I thought I'd see them later this afternoon. Is something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong, precisely." Aunt Kyoko waved as if to brush her concern away. "It's only that their education has been so dreadfully neglected – no fault of yours, of course, you were scarcely more than a girl yourself when dear Naoko passed away. But I do wish your father had shown a bit more concern for their womanly achievements. I know you can't expect a man to take a real interest, of course, but I would have been glad to take over you girls' education."

Yes, she would have. Which had been precisely why Father hadn't let her.

"I see," Kaoru said, resolving to get the truth out of her sisters later. "Well, I'm looking forward to seeing them again."

"Your visit's been all they could talk about." It sounded like a compliment, but Kaoru could read the frustration under it. She didn't bother to stifle her smirk; her aunt saw it and frowned, opening her mouth to say more.

"So, Kaoru," her uncle interjected, eager to change the subject. "How have things been?"

"Different." She flashed him a mirthless smile. "It's strange, sleeping in a new place."

Pain flickered across his face and she relented despite herself. He had made the only possible choice, after all; even if he had thought to remember her father's promise and let her choose, it wouldn't have changed anything. She still would have had to marry the man beside her. Duty demanded it.

It just would have hurt a little less.

"It's fine, though, I'm sure I'll adjust," she said with all the sincerity she could muster. "Don't worry about me, Uncle."

"Perhaps it will be easier now, in a more familiar place?" Lord Himura said, and there was nothing but innocence in his voice. She froze, then forced herself to put some life in her smile.

"Perhaps."

Three nights, and he hadn't touched her. She had served him rice at the morning and evening meals, and that was all: less than an hour each day, fraught with complicated silence and meaningless platitudes. Had he meant to imply that that would change, now?

Please, no. Not here. Not here. Not here, where she had always been safe, where her mother had taught her to write and read and sew and her father had guided her through her first fumbling sword-forms…

Kaoru was as certain as she could be that he desired her. He watched her constantly, like a cat at stalk and she was the bird tangled in the underbrush, seeing the predator and unable to fly. She didn't know why he hadn't taken what he so clearly wanted.

It is unbecoming to treat one's wife with disrespect.

Sudden dread gripped her spine. Maybe it offended his pride to take an unwilling woman to bed – maybe he was waiting for her to overcome her maidenly shyness and offer herself properly. Dutifully. As a loving wife. For her to blush and smile and gasp in pleasure and praise his might.

If that was the case…

She closed her eyes for a moment, resigned.

"Honored wife?" Lord Himura was looking at her, a strange, soft light in his strange eyes. Not blue, and yet not quite true purple: nothing human could have eyes like that. "Your pardon. Has one offended…?"

"No," Kaoru lied, straightening. She couldn't let him see – she'd given too much away already. "Not at all. It's only a little overwhelming, to be home again, when so much has changed."

"I see."

There was nothing sly or deceitful in his eyes. If she didn't know better, she would think that he was only concerned, that his comment had been mere idle conversation. That he had been nothing but honest with her from the beginning.

No. She couldn't let herself hope for that. There had to be some selfish reason why he hadn't exercised his rights yet. Tae had suggested a physical incapacity, but neither of them had any idea how to check on that. If he was impotent, then she didn't have anything to fear – except his frustration, if he decided to blame her for his own difficulties as men sometimes did. Her maid had gone on to advise that if it was a question of physical difficulties, she knew several effective treatments, and presenting him with a cure for his condition might give her a source of power over him.

Perhaps he truly was a supernatural creature, and there were certain physical requirements that she didn't fulfill. Like trying to mate a crow to a cat; or maybe she had to be in the correct season. Her moon would be rising next week, assuming that stress hadn't disrupted her courses. Maybe she needed to be at her most fertile.

"In any case…" Uncle cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Lord Himura, but I'm afraid that I have a favor I must ask."

"Ah, yes, well. As we are family, one will do what can be done, of course."

"My son, Yahiko – Kaoru's cousin. He's old enough now to take a position as a page, and he asked me to approach you on his behalf."

Kaoru wanted to roll her eyes at her uncle's transparency. Her husband blinked, making a peculiar, questioning noise that Kaoru couldn't quite hear.

"Ah – one has some influence, it's true, but one does not believe any lord is seeking more pages at this time…"

"Forgive me, I haven't been clear." Uncle bowed slightly. "Yahiko asked me to approach you about becoming your page."

Horror shot through Kaoru and she stared at her uncle, unable to believe what he was suggesting. First his niece, and then his own son? Hadn't her sacrifice been enough?

"…oro?"

A slightly hysterical giggle escaped despite her best efforts. Lord Himura glanced over at her and she quickly assumed a more solemn expression; but he'd clearly heard her. He was smiling, just a little, a smaller version of that bright, childish grin – as though her disregard for his dignity had pleased him.

He must not have noticed her dismay. Or maybe he had, and it somehow pleased him.

"Kaoru?" Aunt Kyoko tilted her head. "What is it, dear?"

"Oh – it's just so strange to think of little Yahiko as a page. He's growing up so fast." She picked up her cup of tea, letting the warmth tingle through her numb fingers. "He'll be a man before we know it, I suppose."

"The two of you are close?" Lord Himura was watching her carefully, with that cat-at-stalk look again. Kaoru forced herself to take a slow sip of tea before she responded.

"Oh yes!" Aunt bubbled into the silence, "Dear Kaoru doesn't have any brothers, you know, and our little Yahiko doesn't have any sisters – so they're really more like siblings than cousins."

Kaoru glared politely at her aunt, willing her to shut up now, before she made things any worse. Her aunt tittered behind her sleeve and shot Kaoru a nervous glance. Kaoru turned her glare on her uncle, who met her with a stern look.

"Kaoru has always been like an elder sister to our son," he said, turning pointedly away from her to focus on her husband. "And Yahiko is quite sincere in his wish."

"…is that so?" Lord Himura was toying with the edge of his sleeve, very subtly; Kaoru wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't been sitting right next to him. "Honored wife, what is your opinion on the matter?"

"I…" She faltered. Yahiko couldn't be allowed to do this, whatever the reason was. She wouldn't expose him to that kind of danger. No matter how badly she might want something of home around her – she already had Tae, and that was greedy enough. She'd only brought her maid because Tae had threatened to follow on foot if she wasn't allowed to go.

Kaoru straightened her spine, cold fury filling her heart. I will not allow this.

"Yahiko's too young," she said firmly. "He's rude and impertinent, unsuited for the shōgun's court or for service to a lord. He needs to work on his manners before he can be a page to anyone."

"Ah." Lord Himura nodded politely at her uncle, who looked as if he was choking. "One will consider what you both have said, that I will."

Aunt Kyoko took that as her cue to steer the conversation to more neutral waters and they discussed pointless things until Lord Himura pleaded business elsewhere. Kaoru rose to leave with him, and he shook his head.

"You needn't leave just yet, if you wish to stay." He flashed a meaningless smile at her as he pushed his swords through his belt. "One expects to be occupied until the evening; there is no need to trouble yourself, that there is not."

Kaoru glanced at her uncle; rage bloomed within her and her eyes hardened.

"…in that case, honored husband, I'll stay and visit a little longer." Clearly, she and Uncle Miyauchi had things to discuss. "When do you expect to return?"

"No later than the hour of the dog, one should think."

"As you wish," she said, bowing, and words tasted like ashes in her mouth.

"It was a pleasant visit," he said to her aunt and uncle. "One enjoyed it immensely. Would it be too much trouble if one should call again?"

"O-of course not," Aunt Kyoko said, returning the pleasantries as earnestly as she could. "My lord, our home is yours."

The corner of his mouth quirked in a way that was nearly bitter, and there was a queer, sad look in his eyes – the same look he'd had in the garden, when she'd pointed out that she was his to command. As though he was pleading for something, although she couldn't imagine what.

"One is grateful to hear it," he said softly, bowed, and left.

Kaoru listened until she couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, then rounded on her uncle

"How could you – " she started to say.

"How dare you – " he began, at the same time, and there was cold fury in his eyes.

His vehemence startled her into silence, and she took a step back.

"How dare you criticize my son in front of Lord Himura?" he said hotly, advancing on her. "What on earth possessed you? Do you have any idea how foolish you made me look?"

"No more foolish than you made yourself look!" she shot back, anger licking over her bones. "Not even a year since my father – your brother – died and you're already licking the Tokugawa's boots? Bad enough that you broke his promise to mother, but to sell your own son?"

"I am trying to give my son a future!" he roared, and she forced herself to stay where she was. "I am trying to save what I can from your father's idiocy! I begged him to ally with the Tokugawa and he refused to hear it! If not for his foolish ideals, we would have retained control of our province! This is all I can do!"

"My father was not a fool!" Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. "He was loyal, as a warrior should be! You – you snake!"

Uncle slapped her. She reeled back, pressing a hand to her stinging cheek, and all the breath went out of her.

"Your father," her uncle said coldly, "your father's loyalty, doomed you to this marriage, Kaoru. I cannot undo what he did. I cannot change your fate."

Uncle Miyauchi stepped away, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out into the courtyard.

"All I can do is make sure that your sacrifice was not in vain by using it to further the clan's interests. Your father lied to you, Kaoru," he said, and there was no mercy in his voice. "As a woman, you will always be a tool of the men around you. This is your destiny. If you were fated for anything else, you would have been born a man. The sooner you accept your karma, the sooner you will know peace."

Her legs were weak and she wanted to fall; pride alone kept her on her feet. The rage had vanished with her uncle's blow, and she was all hollowness and grief.

"It is not my destiny," she said, voice cracking. "I will not accept it."

"Then struggle." His eyes were cold. "And suffer. And know that if you act against the interests of this clan again, I will not protect you."

He began to walk away.

"Dear…" Aunt Kyoko started to say something, and quailed under her husband's look. She cast Kaoru a frail, apologetic glance, and followed after her husband.

Only then, when they were well out of sight, did Kaoru fall slowly to her knees and sob.

Kenshin patted his mare's neck as she shied and danced to one side, snorting at the rickety bridge in front of them.

"There now," he murmured, eyeing the half-rotted slats with some trepidation. "One sees your point, that I do."

Uramura cleared his throat somewhere behind him.

"My lord," he said carefully. "This is the most convenient path to Master Gensai's residence. Shall we continue?"

"We shall," Kenshin said after a moment. "But perhaps it would be best to leave the horses here, it would."

"Unattended, my lord?"

He shook his head, turning to look at Uramura. "No. If it's not inconvenient, please wait here. One will go alone."

Something had plainly unsettled his chief retainer, but the man hid it well.

"As you wish, my lord."

They dismounted and Kenshin handed his horse's reins to Uramura, who led the animals to the side of the path and tied them loosely to a tree. Kenshin walked over to the bridge and put one foot on the first board that looks reasonably sound, testing its strength. The wood creaked alarmingly, but didn't give.

"It's just up this path, you say?"

"Yes, my lord. About a mile from this bridge."

"Well then. One will return shortly," he said, bowing, and started to cross.

The bridge spanned a high gully with a fast-flowing stream beneath it, fed by a waterfall that cascaded from the other side. It wasn't as high as some he'd crossed; a fall from this height wouldn't kill him, but it would certainly hurt and might even break a few bones. The bridge was ancient, and many of the wooden slats were rotted away. The rope holding it all together wasn't in much better shape. The hemp slid roughly against his hands, catching on his sword callouses, and about halfway across he scraped against a splinter embedded in the hemp and had to pause to pick it out of his palm, wincing.

The trail on the other side of the bridge was rough and narrow, broken by gnarled roots and stone. It slanted sharply upwards, eventually turning into a series of hard switchbacks. Kenshin blew out a breath and started up the slope, picking his way carefully through the loose pebbles. Despite his best efforts, a few of them ended up lodged in his sandals.

The forest thickened as he reached the top of the trail, covering the sun with bright green shadows. Here and there sunlight broke through, pooling along the moss-covered trunk of a fallen giant and sheathing the saplings competing for its place in fragile gold. Trickles of water crossed the path, moistening the air, and he could hear the main stream burbling contentedly to itself as it wound parallel with the trail. Birds sang to one another, unconcerned with the human in their midst, and once he saw a hare poke its nose from the underbrush, twitching, and hurriedly withdraw.

Eventually, he heard a man singing. An old man, voice cracked and weathered, droning his way through one of those songs you know but don't remember learning. He followed the voice as the trail narrowed until it almost vanished, and just when he began to suspect he'd lost the path entirely he broke through the forest and found himself standing in a clearing, in front of a small worn hut. A man was sitting on a stump in front of it, whittling at a stick and singing. He looked up.

Kenshin bowed in greeting.

"Good afternoon, honored sir," he said. "Does one have the honor of addressing Master Gensai?"

The old man stood and returned the bow, gravely. But there seemed to be a spark of good humor in his eyes, and Kenshin found himself wanting to like the man.

"I am Gensai, young man. And who might you be?"

"Pardon the intrusion." Kenshin cleared his throat. "One's name is Kenshin Himura, and if it is not too great an inconvenience, there is a favor one wishes to ask of you."

"Himura?" The old man raised an eyebrow. "A relation of our new lord? Does he wish something of this humble gardener?"

Oh. Right. That. Kenshin's face heated.

"Ah – your pardon, again. That is, one is, more properly, Lord Kenshin Himura, so I am."

He grimaced slightly as he said the words. They fit poorly in his mouth and felt strange on his tongue, like a lie that had gone unchecked so long that there was no hope of ever finding the truth again. Master Oguni raised an eyebrow, and the sense of welcome around him faded.

"I see," he said, apparently to himself. "Well then," he said, more directly, "How might this humble self be of service to such an august personage, my lord?"

He bowed again, and held it. Kenshin had a sudden feeling of having walked into a conversation at just the wrong moment: something was happening, but damned if he could figure out what. Or how to reclaim some measure of control over the situation, because he did in fact know what was wrong. He was wrong. He was the new demon-lord of Hito, vicious and blood-soaked, and he had no business invading this private space to ask for favors.

"One has," he started to say. "That is – one has come to ask if you would consider returning to service at Hito Castle."

"As my lord commands." Master Gensai's face was carefully neutral and his posture was perfectly humble, but Kenshin could feel the challenge in him and didn't have the slightest idea why.

Games. Would it always be games?

Kenshin sighed and ran his hand over his face.

"Master Gensai," he said. "Please stand up. One does not – one asks, only. For the – because your services would be most appreciated, so they would."

The master straightened and eyed Kenshin, wary.

"Would they, now?"

"They would. But one does not command your return," he added, feeling queerly insistent on that point.

Master Oguni looked at him and now Kenshin knew he was being measured for something, like an apprentice who hadn't quite proven himself. He'd know that look anywhere. His own master had never quite lost it, even at the end.

"And why don't you?" Master Oguni said at last.

"Because…" Kenshin rubbed at the bridge of his nose, inexpressibly weary. "Because it would be rude, so it would."

The master stared at him. Leaves rustled overhead: a sparrow sang out. Kenshin blinked, wondering if he'd said the wrong thing.

And then, quite suddenly, Master Oguni smiled.

"Well, well," he said, chuckling. "Come inside, then, and let's talk."

He turned and walked into the hut, gesturing over his shoulder for Kenshin to follow. Kenshin did so, feeling very young again.

The inside of the hut was sparse and neat: a small fireplace molded out of the wall, a wooden pantry standing nearby, a few shelves holding some gardening equipment, and a pile of bedding folded in one corner. Master Oguni opened the pantry and started taking out the tea things.

"Have a seat, my lord, anywhere is fine."

Kenshin knelt on the packed earth, pulling his sword out from his belt and setting it before him.

"Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Master Oguni," he said, not without irony. "One appreciates your tolerance for the inconvenience."

"Not at all," the older man said absently, stoking the embers in the fireplace. "It's always a pleasure to meet one's neighbors."

They went on in this vein for a while, exchanging the traditional small talk and mild pleasantries. When would the rains be coming; oh within a week at the most; do you enjoy the rainy season; I find it refreshing, yes, and the flowers afterwards bloom so beautifully. Oh, but we can only enjoy them for a short time before the fall; doesn't that just make them more beautiful, though?

It was nice. It was nice to follow the script he knew, for once, of a neighbor talking to a neighbor and not a lord ordering a vassal or a vassal serving a lord. It was nice to compliment the pottery and receive a humble disclaimer and a story about the man who'd cast it; to exclaim over the taste of the tea and be told where to find it. Just two people, talking, and as they talked he relaxed inexorably into the gift of the moment, grateful beyond words for the chance to simply be.

Eventually, though, the tea was done and talk turned to the reason for his visit.

"You said you wished me to return to service at the castle?"

"Yes," Kenshin said, finishing off the dregs. "There is a particular garden, in the private quarters. It has been neglected since the previous lord's passing, and as one is told you helped create it, one hopes you might be persuaded to return and tend to it."

"Only to that garden?" There was a strange, subtle light in Master Oguni's eyes.

"Ah." Kenshin put the teacup down and opted for honesty. It had worked so far. "One had not thought that far, honored sir."

"I see." Master Oguni steepled his hands. "And how did you come to learn I had a hand in that particular garden?"

"The Lady Kaoru told one a little of the history. It seems that the place was precious to her and her family."

The older man made a contemplative noise, deep in his throat.

"And that's why you've come all this way? To ask an old man to see to a garden that others might tend just as easily?"

"Well." Kenshin coughed, a little uneasy. "When the honorable lady told one of the garden's history, it seemed – that to her, at least, to allow another to tend it would be unacceptable, that it would."

"…and that mattered to you?"

Kenshin couldn't look at him. He stared just beyond him, instead, and remembered her smile that wasn't a smile, not a true one. It hurt, hurt in a way that he had no right to feel, that she didn't smile. Not near him, certainly never for him and damn him to hell for even considering wanting that.

But surely it wasn't too selfish to want her to smile? Not for him, never for him, but just… in general. There wasn't anything wrong with wanting to give her something, as long as he didn't expect anything in return.

"It did, Master Oguni," he said, quietly. "One thought, perhaps – the lady has suffered many upheavals in the past year. One thought, to have an old friend of her father's near, to see the garden restored, it might make her…" He swallowed. "It might make her happy."

Master Oguni's face went entirely blank. Entirely – that man was so contained that Kenshin could only barely caught the flicker of something indescribable in the very lines of his soul, and only then because he was looking very hard. The master bowed his head and studied the cup in his worn hands, turning it around and around.

"Well, then," he said, after a long pause. "Well."

He looked straight at Kenshin, and his eyes were very kind.

"It seems I'm needed, then. I'll return to the castle with you, my lord Himura. In fact – I believe I shall be quite honored to."

"Big sister, big sister!"

Ayame tugged on Kaoru's sleeve, pulling her over to the pond. "Did you see the fishes? The big carp is still here!"

"Big carp, big carp!" Suzume echoed, pulling on Kaoru's skirts. She picked her littlest sister up, looking carefully over the pond with a teasing air.

"Is it, now? Which one? The white and red one?"

"No, no, no! The big one, the one that's all over silver!" Ayame pointed to the stately matron as she glided out from a cluster of water lilies with a slow flip of her tail.

"Big silver, big silver!"

"Ginko," Kaoru said gently. "Her name is Ginko, remember?"

The big silver was ancient; according to family legend, she was over two hundred years old and had been a gift from their lord – former lord – upon the occasion of their alliance with him. The carp had been a fixture in the private garden for as long as Kaoru could remember, and one of her first memories was of leaning against her mother's side and watching Ginko weave serenely through the lilies.

"Ginko!" Ayame raced around the edge and leaned over to wave at the carp. The carp made her way over to the edge and butted against the surface expectantly. "Hello, Ginko!"

Suzume squirmed in Kaoru's arms, wanting to join her sister. Kaoru let her down and turned to where Tae was standing on the porch outside the garden.

"Tae, would you – ?"

But her old nurse had already brought out a loaded tray: a pot of tea for the humans and a bowl of carefully shredded vegetables for the fish. The girls swarmed her, and Tae kept her balance only through long practice.

"Girls! Don't push. Let Tae put the fish's snacks down – there. Now say thank you."

"Thank you!" they chorused, and then grabbed a handful each of vegetables before returning to the edge of the pond. Kaoru laughed at their eagerness and settled down to watch them. Tae offered her a handful of fish snacks, a sly glimmer in her eyes.

"…maybe later," Kaoru said, a little ruefully.

The girls had to balance on the rocks lining the pond in order to feed the carp, who were already splashing and knocking into one another in anticipation. Ayame let the food fall in clumps; Suzume preferred to sprinkle hers lightly over the surface. The carp didn't have a preference. They just devoured.

Like some people she could name…

Tae's hand settled coolly on her shoulder.

"There, there, dear," she said softly. "We'll find a way through this."

"I have to get them away from Aunt Kyoko," she murmured, clenching her fists as she saw how careful the girls were to avoid putting weight on their knees. "She'll ruin them. She won't mean to, but…"

"We'll find a way," Tae repeated. "We will."

Ayame and Suzume hadn't been allowed to come over until almost halfway through the hour of the rooster, barely an hour before sundown. On the one hand, it gave Kaoru an excuse to insist that they spend the night; on the other, when she'd learned what had delayed them…

Aunt Kyoko had never approved of how her nieces were raised. Part of it, Kaoru was sure, was envy; she'd wanted children, badly, but had never had more than Yahiko, and him only after far too many failed pregnancies. And while it was true that one boy was better than three girls – at least to Aunt Kyoko's way of thinking – boys belonged to their fathers past a certain age, while a mother could dote on her daughter for years, meddling in her friendships, her fashions, her marriage… and Aunt Kyoko loved to meddle.

Nothing was ever quite good enough for her, that was the problem. Especially not her brother-in-law's wild daughters. Ayame and Suzume had been in her care for less than a week and they were already miserable: she expected them to be up at dawn, dressed, and ready to sit politely and unfed while Uncle ate breakfast. Only after he'd left did the women eat; then they had lessons all day, in calligraphy and embroidery and various other womanly arts that Kaoru quite agreed they should learn, but – not that way. Not as a chore, not as something to be endured and mastered. That was never how mother had taught them. With mother it had always been a celebration, each achievement praised for the effort and the thought put into it even when it didn't turn out exactly right.

Aunt Kyoko believed that children should be seen and not heard: that they should be docile and obedient and uncomplaining. Mother and father had never felt that way, had always treated their daughters as small people with opinions that deserved to be at least heard, if not necessarily heeded. They had explained things, had wanted their children to understand why and not only what. Aunt Kyoko didn't think that why should matter to a small child. All they needed to know was to do what they were told, and what the penalties were for failing to obey.

And that was another thing! Being sent to their room without supper or denied a special treat – that was all very well and good – but kneeling on rice for an hour? No food for a day? Confined to a closet? For being children, and doing what children do?

It was possible that Aunt Kyoko would eventually reach some sort of balance and learn to take the girls as they were. It was equally possible that she would break their spirits, first; and Kaoru refused to take that chance.

Except that she didn't have the slightest idea what to do. And she only had a week to figure it out.

She sighed and turned to Tae. "Maybe we could – "

Tae's hand slid off her shoulder and the maid stood, bowing towards the porch.

"My lord. We are grateful for your safe return."

Lord Himura stepped down into the garden, brushing aside the hanging blossoms. He acknowledged Tae with a nod, and then his eyes fixed on Kaoru, as they always did. She was starting to get used to it, to expect it, and that frightened her straight down her bones.

"Honored wife," he said softly, bowing to her. "One has returned."

"Honored husband." Kaoru bowed. "Welcome home."

Her gut twisted in resentment, and she prayed that none of it showed on her face. He looked over to where the girls were still absorbed in feeding the carp, and a small smile lit his face.

"Your sisters are still here?"

"They've only just arrived." She moved to stand between them and him, and wasn't aware that she had done so until she saw the light dim in his eyes. He looked away, as if he were ashamed.

"There is a guest," he went on to say, more briskly than she had heard him speak before. "One hopes you will welcome him."

"A guest…?"

"Hello there, Kaoru my dear," Master Oguni said, stepping into the garden. "It's been some time, hasn't it?"

He smiled, and the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes grew even deeper. Kaoru's hand came up to her collar and clenched there, wrapping in the silk of her kimono.

"Master Oguni. I – it's so good to see you."

And then she smiled, a real smile, her first true smile in weeks: it rose up from a deep, warm place she'd almost forgotten she had inside her, a place where her mother had never died, and her father had never retreated into his philosophies, and the war had never happened, and it was only her and her parents and her sisters playing in the garden through long warm days and safe, restful nights.

She didn't know why her husband had brought Master Oguni here; but in that one solitary moment all she could do was be grateful that he had. Kaoru turned to thank him.

Lord Himura hadn't moved. He didn't look like he could move: he was frozen to the spot, staring at her, not with his usual hunting-cat hunger but something far more primal. A naked yearning that was entirely and brutally human. Her eyes widened and her sense of peace faded, replaced by uncertainty.

Her smiled vanished. The look in his eyes faded and he stepped back up onto the porch.

"Your pardon," he said, bangs hiding his eyes, and started to walk away. "One will take his leave, now."

"Wait," she said, not entirely sure why. He paused, back straight as an arrow. "Um – the evening meal. Will you require – "

"No." He cut her off, shaking his head, and his voice was rough with – something she didn't want to think too much about. "Stay with your sisters," he continued, more gently. "One is entirely capable of pouring his own tea for a night."

He threw a smile over his shoulder, shallow and polite and utterly without meaning. A mask, one that didn't match his reputation or the stark longing in his eyes when he looked at her, and yet he wore it so effortlessly she could almost be tempted to believe it was the truth.

"…thank you," she said suddenly, and didn't know quite why. "For bringing Master Oguni. I – I haven't seen him since father died. I've missed him."

And then the mask wasn't, and he was really smiling, that bright little-boy smile that she didn't understand. She'd seen it the first time on their wedding night, when he'd left her alone and untouched in the bridal chamber, and then again the next night, when he'd presented his plan for a visit to her home. He'd worn it once more the evening before they arrived, when they'd stopped for the night at the same small inn she'd stayed in on her journey to Edo. The proprietor had remembered how much she'd loved the local delicacy, a citrusy little sweetcake, and brought out a tray, and she'd forgotten the circumstances and laughed with pleasure. He'd commented that she seemed fond of sweets and she'd turned to him, startled, only to see him smiling like a devoted bridegroom delighting in his new wife's happiness.

"Then one's purpose has been accomplished, so it has," he said, still in the soft tone. "One will retire for the night, I think. Rest well, when you do."

"And you, honored husband."

She didn't watch him go. She turned back to her sisters, to her father's oldest friend, to her loyal nursemaid, and she played with her sisters and talked with the last remnants of her family. They ate together in the garden in the cool summer twilight, and when the girls finally started to fall asleep Tae and Master Oguni helped her tuck them into bed, and she didn't think of her husband at all, except for once at the very end of the evening.

After the girls were safely asleep and dreaming, she'd thanked Master Oguni for leaving his hermitage to come see, and to tend to her father's garden. He'd smiled at her, shaking his head.

"I regret to say that I didn't come entirely on my own, my dear. Your uncle and I have never gotten along, after all."

She'd blinked, confused.

"What?"

"I came because your husband asked me to visit," he'd said, eyes twinkling with that entirely-too-happy look he got when he was about to rattle someone's cage. "For your sake. Now, how did he put it? Oh yes – that you've been through quite a lot in the past year, and he thought it might make you happy to have an old friend of the family nearby."

"..he said that?" Her heart had pounded hard in her temples, because Master Oguni wouldn't lie, which meant that Lord Himura had said that, and Master Oguni wouldn't have left his home if he had thought that Lord Himura was lying when he said it, which meant that her husband must have said that, and meant it.

And that didn't make any sense.

When Kaoru slept that night, she dreamed of her husband standing in the garden and framed by the bright waterfall of flowers: she dreamed of his eyes pleading with her, his strange eyes like wisteria petals whirling downstream, and in her dream she asked him an important question but woke up before he answered, and by the time she cleared the sleep from her eyes she couldn't remember what she'd asked.


	3. do I dare disturb the universe?

Misao stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, pushing out her stomach. She was putting on weight, Kaoru noted clinically: there was a soft roundness to her belly and breasts that hadn't been there before. Motherhood suited her.

"This feels _so_ nice!" she exclaimed, sinking back down into the hot spring. "I've been just _exhausted_ lately, you know." She rested one hand on the bump in her abdomen, blushing. "The doctor says it's normal – I guess because I'm making a whole new person, here."

Kaoru smiled, happy for her friend, and rubbed idly at the side of her neck. She'd woken up with a terrible crick in it. The hot water was making her thirsty; she turned over, letting her legs float out behind her, and rested her arms on the side of the spring. There was a tray sitting within reach with two cups of cool barley tea, and she took a moment to consider the effort involved in reaching for a cup when she was already limp with heat. Was she really _that_ thirsty?

"So," Misao said, crossing her legs on the stone bench, "It's been almost a week, you've had a chance to learn Lord Himura's routine…"

She _was_ that thirsty, after all, Kaoru decided, barely hearing what Misao was saying. Misao was her best friend, and Kaoru loved her dearly, but she could talk a stone Buddha into covering his ears. She reached out and snagged a cup before the air could cool her skin too much, then retreated back to the smothering warmth of the spring and sighed gratefully.

"When would be the best time for you to sneak out? My dear husband's already made all the arrangements, and we can have you at the family place in Iga province in no time."

Kaoru had just taken a swig of tea – far more than was ladylike, because she never needed to bother with that when she was with Misao – and it was wonderfully refreshing in the moment before she choked on it.

"…what?" she sputtered, when her airway finally cleared.

"Well, we _can_ also just assassinate him," Misao said calmly, fixing her hair where it had started to come out of its bun. "But dear Aoshi thinks that might cause problems, and anyway I know you don't like killing people if it can be avoided."

"…and my running away _won't?_ " Kaoru gulped down her tea, head spinning. She had been half-expecting this – Misao's family being what they were – but Misao was so _casual_ about it, as though a violation of filial piety carried no more weight than a stained kimono. They were bound to her family by friendship and blood-debt and Kaoru _knew_ that those things meant more to them than any law, and yet they stood so completely outside the bushido that she couldn't help feeling a bit nervous, sometimes.

"Well, that's only step _one_." Misao hoisted herself partway out of the spring and grabbed her own cup of tea. "Obviously the new government won't allow you to divorce, so there's no point even bothering trying that. So we fake your death instead, and then a few months later, after things settle down, my cousin from Iga comes to live with me and Lord Aoshi following the tragic death of her parents in some kind of natural disaster. Or not, if you don't ever want to come back here – our clan still owes a great debt to your father, you know, so if you decide to start over somewhere instead we'll do everything we can to help you."

"Fake my _death?_ " Kaoru put her empty cup on the edge of the spring, feeling a headache building. Of course Misao would think of something like that. Her family's only loyalty was to Koushijiro Kamiya, and with his death it transferred to her, his eldest daughter. The future of Hito, the stability of the country – those things meant nothing, so long as their duty to those they were pledged to was fulfilled. No wonder Father had always called them a double-edged sword.

"Sure! It's easy – although I can't give you the details." She tapped the side of her nose. "Trade secret, you know. But there'll be a body and everything, and no one will know the difference."

"Misao…" Kaoru closed her eyes, tilting her head back, and let her hands fall below the waterline. The heat seeped into the tension between her fingers, loosening her hands, and she flexed them unconsciously. "And then what? My family is disgraced and we lose what little we have left? Uncle sells some other poor girl into marriage? I'm not _that_ selfish."

"I can't accept that."

Misao's voice was cold, and utterly passionless. Kaoru's eyes snapped open. She looked at her friend; Misao was staring flatly at her, looking eerily like Aoshi. "I haven't said anything because I know you hate imposing on others – but I can't stand by and let him hurt you."

Kaoru blinked, and suddenly several things made sense: Misao's relief when she'd said that of course she was free to go to the hot springs, her solicitousness on the ride over, how she'd come into the spring after Kaoru was covered by the water. Misao had been trying not to shame her.

"Misao – he hasn't hurt me." She shook her head. "He hasn't even touched me. Actually… I was going to tell you, after our soak, because I don't know _what's_ going on and I could really use some advice. But he hasn't hurt me."

Misao straightened and her eyes narrowed.

"Tell me."

Kaoru told her. Starting with their wedding night, and up to the present day: everything he'd done and more importantly, _not_ done. How he'd been nothing but courteous, and brought Master Oguni to take care of the garden – and Misao knew how much that meant. And she meant to confine it to facts, she really did, but she was so confused she ended up spilling everything else, too: how kept _looking_ at her, and the way he smiled sometimes. Like they were reading from different scripts.

She talked for longer than she had since her father had died, and when she was done Misao silently handed her the remaining, untouched glass of barley tea. Kaoru downed it gratefully, feeling the coolness in the tips of her fingers and toes.

"We should get out of the spring." Misao said. "It's not good to stay in the heat this long."

"You're right." But Kaoru made no move to get out. "I'm – I just don't know what to do, Misao."

Her friend was already climbing out of the springs. Kaoru followed her, and she didn't miss Misao's long, assessing look at her body before she wrapped herself in a yukata. Annoyance flared.

"I'm telling the truth," she snapped. "All he does is stare at me. I think he'd have a heart attack if I actually touched him. See?"

She dropped her yukata and turned around. There were no bruises on her, no scratches or scrapes – no signs of rough treatment at all. Then Kaoru pulled her robe back on, tossing back her hair.

"I believe you!" Misao said quickly. "I just don't know what to make of it."

"Me neither." Kaoru sighed. "But I would have thought you'd know already, to be honest," she said vaguely. "I mean – you and Aoshi always seem to know everything else…"

Misao shook her head. "It's hard to know anything about someone who didn't _exist_ until about fifteen years ago," she pointed out. "On paper, anyway. You know the official story – that his branch was almost wiped out in that earthquake, and their records destroyed."

"Yes…" They reached the dressing room and Kaoru waved away the attendants, perfectly content to dry herself. Misao let them fuss over her, glowing with an expectant mother's pride as they exclaimed over her health and the growing bulge.

They weren't left alone and able to talk until they had been escorted to lunch, which was really more like "midafternoon snack," but Misao was taking her pregnancy as an opportunity to fully indulge her voracious appetite, and Kaoru had no qualms about playing along. The head maid winked at them as she showed them to their seats, making sure Misao took note of the kawashi-mochi, elegantly sculpted to look like flowers. Misao was delighted: the red-bean snacks were a special favorite of hers, and they were supposed to improve a mother's breast milk.

"Which you know I worry about," she said between bites. "Dear Aoshi says that if it's really a problem we can always get a wet nurse, but even though it's a little selfish of me I don't want to share my baby with anyone except Lord Aoshi."

She finished her snack, tilting her head as her eyes focused, briefly.

"Right, then," she said cheerfully. "That's the last of the eavesdroppers gone, so let's get back to business."

Kaoru cast her own senses out, just a precaution. Misao had always been better at this sort of thing than she was, but she had her pride to consider. What was left of it, anyway. Her callouses were starting to soften already.

"You're right," Kaoru said, after a moment's hard listening with more than her ears. "So, you were saying, about the records…"

"Right! Like I said, there's the official story – and then there's what we've put together."

"Which is?"

Misao spread her hands open eloquently. "Nothing. For all we can tell, the official story _is_ true, and he _is_ the last survivor of a very minor branch of hereditary Tokugawa retainers who suffered a run of bad luck. He _did_ show up wearing the right crest, and with some kind of seal that served as proof of his identity. At least, that's what everyone who was there swears to. The only way to be sure would be to get our hands on the Tokugawa records…"

There was a contemplative, conspiratorial gleam in her eye as she said it.

"No!" Kaoru blurted out, shocked that her friend would even _consider_ such a thing. "Don't you dare, Misao, not you or anyone else! It's far too dangerous – I can't ask anyone – and anyway, that's not what's really important," she finished, flushing bright red.

"Probably not," Misao agreed, cheerfully. "But it would so much fun to try!"

"Misao!"

"Alright, alright, just joking. But you know, it might actually be really important. Where a person came from can tell you a lot about them."

"I suppose you're right…" Kaoru turned her teacup in her hand, staring at the liquid as it swirled clockwise. Even when she rotated the cup the other way the tea kept going, undisturbed. So why was she bothering?

 _The sooner you accept your karma, the sooner you will know peace_.

"I just wish I knew _why_ ," she said, mostly to herself. "Is that too much to ask?"

"It's not." Misao's hand touched her wrist, light as a butterfly. "It's the most important question in any situation, more important even then _what_ or _how_. Once you know why, you can predict everything."

She settled back on her heels. "I wish I had an answer for you."

"I really don't think he's going to hurt me," Kaoru said quietly, and was surprised to find it was true. "I can't say why, not really. I just – I don't think anyone could look at someone they wanted to hurt the way he looks at me."

"And how's that?"

"Like." She closed her eyes. "Like a child looking at something they desperately want but know they can't ever have. And that's the weirdest thing!" she said, putting her tea down more forcefully than was actually necessary. "He _could!_ I'm his _wife!_ He can do whatever he wants, and he _wants_ to, but he won't. And Master Oguni… Master Oguni would never have come if he hadn't thought that Lord Himura meant it, when he said he thought that him coming back might make me happy."

Misao tilted her head and looked at Kaoru for a long moment, green eyes bright.

"Maybe…" she said slowly. "Well. Sometimes – well, you know how frightened I was to marry my Aoshi. I thought he was so cold, but… well, he _is_ , but he's not. Not really. Most people aren't at all like they act in public, not really. Maybe Lord Himura's…"

 _Not so bad?_ Kaoru heard the end of that sentence, but didn't dare say it out loud. And neither did Misao.

"I don't know," she said finally. "Or maybe it's just because I _am_ his wife, and it offends his honor. Except… his first wife…"

"Maybe she really _did_ betray him," Misao suggested. "I know the story says that he didn't wait to find out if it was true, but maybe he didn't have to. And – well, if she _did_ betray him, he wasn't _wrong_ to execute her. She had to have known the consequences of her actions, if she failed."

"I know," Kaoru said. Honor was very clear: the only thing that could cleanse the stain of treachery was the death of the traitor – or their success. If his first wife _had_ betrayed him, and been discovered, then she would have had to die. And death by the sword was cleaner than most: at the hands of a true master, it was downright merciful. But the story was always told as though he hadn't waited to know for certain. As if the mere _possibility_ of treachery had been enough to warrant her death, without a second's thought. That was what was terrifying, that utter ruthlessness.

"…do you think you could find out?"

"Hmm?" Misao blinked at her. "Find out what?"

"What actually happened. With his first wife. I think – maybe that's more important than his family?"

"Of course!" Misao smacked her fist into her open palm. "No, that totally makes sense! I'll get to work on that as soon as I'm home – it shouldn't be _that_ hard to track down witnesses and get the real story. I don't know why I didn't think of it. It's the most scandalous thing he's ever done, so what really happened is definitely going to shed some light on things."

She nodded firmly, alight with determination. "Don't worry, Kaoru. And just in case, I'll send Shirojo with you. He can pass as one of your guards, and he'll give you a way to get in touch with me at once if anything changes. And if worse comes to worst…"

"If worse comes to worst," Kaoru interrupted, "I've already got plans of my own. I don't want to endanger anyone else…"

Misao rolled her eyes a little at that. Kaoru glared, crossing her arms.

"Don't start," Misao said. "Tae's really sneaky and all, and I know you're a good fighter, but Shirojo is _trained_ for this. And besides – it'll make me feel better. You don't want to upset a pregnant woman, do you?"

She batted her eyelashes innocently at Kaoru. Kaoru flicked a rice cracker at her, grinning.

"I guess not."

And the thought of it did make her feel better. She'd have a link to Misao, her friend; to Aoshi, who was still loyal to her father's memory, whatever lip service he paid to Uncle Miyauchi and the Tokugawa. She wouldn't be alone. She _wasn't_ alone.

"Thank you, Misao," she said, and meant it.

"Of course!" Misao grinned at her, so hard that the corners of her eyes wrinkled. "What are friends for?"

~*~

The grand audience chamber of Hito Castle was much like every audience chamber Kenshin had ever been in. There were three levels: the lowest, where petitioners waited; the second level, where advisors sat in two perpendicular rows, forming a narrow path where each petitioner had to kneel when their turn came and feel the stares of the council boring into them; and then there was the third and highest level where the presiding lord sat, alone.

He supposed that he was meant to feel grand and powerful, overlooking the men who owed him fealty. Mostly he just felt awkward. Half of these men were taller than him, for pity's sake, and all of them knew the business of running a province better than he did. It hurt their pride to have to kowtow and speak softly around an outsider, especially an ignorant one. He could see it in the tension in their shoulders and hear it in their strained courtesies, and it was all he could do not to call a halt to the proceedings and tell them to speak honestly with him.

Actually, the only reason he wasn't doing precisely that was because he was fairly sure they'd consider it an insult. Or at least, enough of them would that it would only cause problems for everyone later on. And the rest would think it was some kind of trap.

Today he was meeting the village headmen. Or they were meeting him. The semantic distinction was apparently important, but he kept forgetting which one he was supposed to use. The headmen were not to be confused with the subordinate lords who managed the various fiefs within his province. The lords were all samurai, and charged only with protecting those lands. In return, they were supported by the farmers, who worked the land and managed most of internal affairs of the villages. Except when those internal affairs became too much for them, in which case the local samurai lord stepped in; or he could intervene simply because he felt like it, although this was frowned on because it could breed resentment. And every samurai, of course, owed his ultimate allegiance to the lord of the province, who also served as the court of final appeal should an issue become _so_ tangled that no local authority could possibly intervene successfully.

Who happened to be yours truly, Kenshin Himura. _Lord_ Kenshin Himura. Good grief. He could _hear_ his master laughing.

The end point of all this being: there was a whole new group of people he had to meet, and try to remember the names of as well as at least one pertinent fact, because he'd been raised to be polite. He was beginning to understand why lords were allowed to be rude, though; remembering all these people and how they related to each other and to him verged on impossible.

He'd just have to do his best.

It wasn't appropriate for a lord to smile in audience, but he tried to keep his face gentle as each nerve-wracked headman made the long walk between his chief advisors and administrators to prostrate himself before their new lord. He tried to put real welcome in his voice when he accepted their fealty and the small tokens they'd brought as tribute, even as he squirmed inwardly. And he did his best to appear to be listening carefully to any matters they brought to his attention – which more than a few of them did. The war had not been kind to any province, and there was a lot of rebuilding to do. Luckily, he wasn't expected to make any major decisions just then: that would come later, while he was meeting with his privy council.

Most of the headmen didn't seem to notice his efforts. Others noticed and responded with the same bewildered flinching he'd come to expect, clearly believing it to be a front. And a very precious few looked up, surprised, as the tension leaked suddenly from their bones. Those he was hard-pressed not to smile at out of simple relief.

Eventually they ran out of headmen. Kenshin was just about to call an end to the proceedings when Uramura coughed politely and shifted on his heels.

"Your pardon, my lord, but there is one last item of business."

"Yes?"

"As you may have been informed, the previous lord granted permission for a Christian," he stumbled slightly over the word, "temple to be constructed within the bounds of the capitol of this province. The foreign priest seeks to make himself known to your lordship."

Kenshin leaned forward, interested. He'd never met a Christian, aside from that shipwrecked – what was the word? – _iingirisu_ , something like that – pilot that Lord Tokugawa had interviewed a few times in Osaka, and they'd barely exchanged two words. The foreigner had been understandably preoccupied with adjusting to his new circumstances, and anyway apparently he was a totally different kind of Christian, one who hated the priests who'd come with the Portuguese ships.

"Are they here now?" he asked.

"Ah – yes," Uramura said, blinking. "Is it my lord's will to grant them audience _now?_ "

"Is that wrong?" He'd meant the question sincerely. Apparently it had been the wrong thing to say, because Uramura swallowed hard.

"No, my lord," he said, a little weakly. "If that is your desire."

"…send them in, then," Kenshin said, unable to keep the note of apology out of his voice. He _was_ curious about the foreigners and their religion, after all, and he didn't see the harm in letting them introduce themselves. He'd find a way to make up for the inconvenience to his council later.

The guards slid the door to the chamber open. There were three of them, all men, dressed in monk's robes. Only one was foreign: the other two were Japanese. Kenshin studied them as they went through the usual courtesies and settled themselves in front of him on the second tier. The foreigner had black hair and eyes, like most people, but his skin was far darker than normal and his eyes were very large and heavily lidded. It make him look sleepy. His mouth was strange, too: it was wider than seemed normal, and his jaw was quite square. It made him look a little deformed, to be honest, but the pilot had looked much the same so maybe that was normal for foreigners.

"This lowly person's name is," and here he said something that was presumably his name as he bowed, only Kenshin couldn't for the life of him understand it. He liked the sound, though: like water burbling out of a jar. "Please forgive my poor Japanese."

It was very fluent, and sounded rehearsed. Kenshin nodded.

"Welcome, honored priest," he said. "Might one know the names of your companions as well?"

The foreigner blinked and glanced at the younger of the Japanese men. He whispered quickly to the priest, whose eyes lit up.

"Your pardon, honored lord," the foreigner said. "These my brothers are. Their names," and here he said more words in that strange tongue. "Priests also."

"Brothers?" Kenshin peered at them, feeling slightly out of his depth. "Your pardon, honored priest, but one was told you were foreign…?"

The foreigner leaned towards the younger man again, who whispered something else, and more hurriedly.

"Brothers of faith," the foreigner clarified. "They Christian, too."

"Understood," Kenshin said, looking at each of the Japanese men in turn. "Ah – forgive one's rudeness, but – why did you join the foreign religion?"

It was a very personal question, and not one they could refuse to answer given the circumstances. And he wouldn't have asked, normally, but more than curiosity drove him now. Lord Tokugawa had spent much time brooding over the problem of the Portuguese and the religion they were so eager to spread. Trade with the foreigners relied on allowing them to preach their strange faith; it had been made clear, more than once, that banishing the priests would result in the loss of the vital Portuguese link in trade with China. It wasn't an issue Kenshin had paid much attention to, but since the opportunity was here and he was a lord now – heaven help him – he might as well try to learn something.

The Japanese men glance uneasily at the foreign priest, who smiled and waved them onward. Then they looked at each other, and Kenshin had to work very hard to suppress a smile at the brief, obvious, _silent_ duel over who was going to have to go first. The younger one lost.

"With my lord's permission," he said, bowing, "This lowly self will answer first. I was born," and he swallowed here, paling slightly, "I was born the son of a farmer, my lord, in the town of Yachiyo. A few years ago, the honored priest came to preach the scriptures to us, and I felt moved to pledge myself to God. The honored priest discovered that I have a gift for languages, my lord, and Lord – the previous lord granted permission for me to leave my home and join the Church, so that I might serve as an interpreter. It was his custom, my lord, to seek out knowledge, and he wished to be able to converse more easily with the honored foreign priest that they might learn from one another."

Kenshin felt a surge of sympathy for the boy, taken from his ordinary life because of a useful gift and thrust in the middle of a world he wasn't prepared for. He wondered what the youngster would think, if he knew how much they had in common. But that wasn't anyone's business except the ancestors Lord Tokugawa had offended with his little deception, and they'd answer for that in the next life, not this one. And Kenshin had gone willingly into service to the Tokugawa, after all, even if he hadn't completely understood what he was signing up for. He nodded in what he hoped was an understanding sort of way.

"One will not be taking up permanent residence here for some time yet, that I won't," he commented, trusting everyone present to catch the implication that he didn't intend to continue that particular tradition, at least not for now. "However, one sees little reason to undo a decision already made."

And that was for the youngster, just in case he was worried about being sent back home.

The younger man bowed again and retreated, and now it was the older fellow's turn to shuffle forward and bow in introduction.

"My lord, I was born the second son of Mitsunari Watanabe. My father was privileged to hear the honored priest teaching the Word of Lord and, although he himself did not convert, he sent me to serve the honored priest and join his church."

 _Another marriage of convenience_ , Kenshin thought wryly, and then had to spend a moment forcing his wife from his mind to focus on the task at hand. Which was remarkably difficult, now that he'd seen her smile. A connection with the priests was a connection with the foreign traders, which was always useful. He'd be very surprised if this Mitsunari Watanabe had truly cared about the foreign religion.

"Well," he said, more questions forming. Then he caught his councilors shifting restlessly. "One more question, then," he said, seizing on the first one that came to mind that didn't seem likely to result in too much conversation. "One has seen images – of a man being executed, so I have. One is told this is the god you worship?"

"It is so, my lord," said the youngster.

"Why?" he asked, careful to keep only genuine curiosity in his voice. Crucifixion was the most disgraceful of all deaths, reserved for commoners who had committed murder or theft. There was nothing honorable or clean about it – not that death was normally clean, but given the choice between the sword and the slow agony and humiliation of the cross…

And by the looks the three exchanged, and their whispered conference, he had a sudden horrible feeling that he'd gone and stepped in it. Finally, the foreigner spoke.

"The Lord dies for us," he said, patting lightly at his chest. "All pain – for us. That we do not feel it, yes? That we are saved from sin."

_With my blade, I can bring forth a more peaceful world…_

He'd slaughtered his way across dozens of battlefields, leaving rivers of blood in his wake. Men had fallen like leaves where he passed, and he'd hated every moment of it. There was no honor or glory in what he did: no one stood a chance against him. There could be no fair fight once he took the field, only slaughter. Necessary slaughter – to unify Japan, to put an end to the dozens upon dozens of warring lords who'd ravaged the land for far too long, who'd burned and sacked villages simply because they were there – and he could still see the banners waving in the smoke as he searched for his mother, father, uncle, _anyone_ –

_If dirtying my blade will bring about an era of peace…_

How many had been sacrificed? How many had borne the burden of Japan's salvation? He'd ended so many lives, wrought so much suffering, and yet _he_ was the one sitting here in wealth and splendor. Lord Himura. What a hideous _joke_ – and not remotely funny.

…he'd promised her that he would live on, regardless, and he had to keep on because he'd broken every other vow that mattered. So he would carry on. He _would_. And maybe, if he carried on long enough, he'd figure out why he was bothering.

"My lord?" Uramura's voice snapped him out of it. His audience was looking at him strangely, and he waved his hand dismissively.

"It's nothing," he said, catching his breath. "That will be all, it will. The council will meet after the noon meal."

He stood, gathering the damnable court robes around him, and walked out of the chamber.

~*~

Kaoru stood in the door of the training hall, palms sweating. It was empty – this was the private hall, for family use only, not the common one that all the retainers used. Her stomach knotted as she bowed and stepped inside.

It had been Misao who'd put the idea in her head by reminding her that she was a fighter. She was a fine swordswoman, or she had been. She had been strong in her own right, and it had been _her_ strength, something she'd earned with sweat and strain and long hours of discipline, not by right of birth. Something she and her father had shared, just between the two of them. Part of his promise to Mother – that his daughters would always be able to choose their own destinies. He'd raised her to fight, and to keep fighting.

She hadn't practiced since his death, almost six months ago.

The hardest part had been finding a set of practice clothes. Those possessions she'd deemed too dear to part with had gone with her to Edo; everything else had stayed behind, to be packed up for storage or redistributed elsewhere. It hadn't amounted to much, in the end: her sewing kit, her mother's jewels, the calligraphy set her father had given her on her thirteenth birthday. The rest had been meaningless, easy to replace with finer versions as part of her trousseau.

She hadn't taken her swords with her. It hadn't seemed right. They belonged to a different girl – a girl, not a woman. A girl who knew she'd be able to choose, who had planned to choose a man proud to marry a woman who carried them at her side, a woman who would never stop fighting. Not the woman who'd given up and allowed herself to be sold like a rack of dried fish. So she'd given her swords to the family's shrine instead, as an offering to the gods. Maybe they'd make better use of them.

It would have been easier to get herself some practice clothes if she'd asked for help, but she didn't really want anyone to know, not even Tae. There was something hushed and sacred about this; she felt like she had as a young girl, stealing sips of sake from her father's cup. Except she was stealing herself back, piece by piece, and she knew it was probably a terrible idea that if Lord Himura discovered her he would probably disapprove, as most men would – but something in his eyes when he looked at her made her think that even if he didn't approve, he wouldn't stop her.

And anyway, sneaking down to the common practice area and filching a set of clothes had been _fun_. She'd nearly forgotten what that felt like.

The training hall hadn't changed. For a moment, she was in the past: she turned, half-expecting to see her father coming in behind her. He'd nod, maybe tease her a little about putting off practice until so late in the day. They'd go through the warm-ups together; then kata; then sparring. And when they finally came down from the high, clear place where it was only flesh and steel and warrior's instinct, Mother would be sitting in the doorway with a tolerant smile to tell them that they were late for dinner.

Her eyes stung hot, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. Then she took a wooden practice sword down from the rack and moved into the first position.

It was slow going at first. Not because she didn't remember, but because she didn't remember _enough_. Movements that should have been graceful were clumsy: her strikes were weak, and she took a beat to follow through instead of making it all one smooth motion. Even with no one to see it was embarrassing how much she'd lost, and her own frustrated shame inhibited her further until finally she came to a halt in the center of the floor and simply _breathed_ , long and slow.

Her spirit was strong. The techniques were there. They _would_ return.

Then she began again, slow as if she had only just picked up a blade, with the first strike she'd ever learned. Precision first. Speed and power would come later, when the technique was hers again.

Strike. Strike. Strike.

Again and again, until her neglected muscles began to burn. She paused to wipe the sweat from her eyes and retie her hair.

Strike. Strike. Strike.

The practice blade cut a smooth, slow arc in the air. She resisted the urge to speed up and kept her eyes fixed on her weapon, watching for any deviation from the true line and exhaling hard with each strike, not quite a true battle cry. Not yet.

Strike. Strike. Strike.

And, eventually, the burn in her arms and back smoothed into a pleasant ache that meant that she was _working_ again, not just waking up. She sped up a little, letting the rhythm of the exercise take her, and the fire in her belly leapt higher and higher until it _finally_ blazed bright again and she _snapped_ her sword down with a piercing shout.

But once doesn't count. So she did it again, and again, until fifty strikes later she was as convinced as she was going to get that the technique had come back. Kaoru stuck her wooden sword through her belt and stood still for a moment, head thrown back, allowing herself that much triumph. Then she turned to leave: she was thirsty, and she needed to check the time. Maybe she'd be able to work in a bit more practice before she had to bathe and change to attend to her husband…

Who was standing in the doorway.

"Your pardon," he said mildly, and the heat in his eyes scorched her. "One didn't wish to interrupt, that I did not."

Her hand fell to the sword hilt automatically, but she didn't feel any rage in him. Only that terrible heat, like the longing in his eyes whenever he looked at her but so, so much sharper.

"I appreciate your courtesy," she said, tightening her gut to keep her voice from breaking. "Have I interrupted your practice?"

"No," he said tightly, and swallowed. "One did not know that you practiced the sword."

"Since I was a girl." He didn't make any move towards her. "My father taught me."

She took her hand off the hilt and walked past him to the water barrel just below the porch surrounding the hall. He held himself completely still, and she had a sense of terrible force barely holding itself in check. The doorway wasn't quite large enough for both of them, and her sleeve brushed his: she thought she heard him gasp, and then he was inside the dojo and going through his own warm-up routine with stiff efficiency.

Kaoru gulped down a ladle of water and then tossed a second one over her head. She checked the sun, shading her eyes. Still a good hour or so before dinner, and she didn't want to stop practicing just yet. Maybe…

She went back up the steps.

"Excuse me," she called from the doorway. "Honored husband?"

He paused mid-movement, just for a moment, and then completed it before responding.

"Yes?"

"If it's not too much intrusion… I had wanted to practice a bit more. Is it alright if I take the other end of the hall?"

His eyes widened – the heat in them was banked, and he looked almost as guileless as he normally did.

"Of course it is," he said. "It's no trouble, that it's not."

"Thank you." She bowed back into the hall and drew out her practice sword, running through the first movement a few more times for good measure, and then beginning on the second one. She could hear her husband practicing, although she faced away from him: she could feel his presence, too, now that he wasn't tamping it down. There was no rage in it that she could detect, only a deep focus on what he was doing and hints of… curiosity?

She shook herself and refocused on her work. If he wasn't going to make a big deal out of her swordsmanship, than she wasn't going to bring it up. There were too many unknowns in the situation. As she practiced, she found that he became simply part of the landscape, and that was… nice. She wasn't used to practicing alone.

Eventually she sank fully into the flow of swordsmanship. Time passed, not unpleasantly, until she heard Lord Himura clear his throat.

"Ah, honored wife?"

And despite the hour she'd spent in his company, a cold hand of fear still shot up her spine. Maybe he'd been waiting for her to dig her own grave… But _nothing_ about him felt like a threat. Not even that strange heat, earlier: overwhelming and powerful, yes, but not _dangerous_. Never dangerous.

She faced him, putting on her politest smile. "Yes, honored husband?"

"It's nearly time for dinner, so it is," he said, with a note of apology in his voice. "Would you prefer to take the first bath, or…?"

"Oh, is it that late already?" She strode over to the door and glanced up at the darkening sky. "I guess it is. Well, Father always said it was important not to miss meals."

She winced even as she said it, knowing that she sounded like a child. But her husband's mouth quirked a little in amusement.

"A wise man, that he was."

Kaoru put her wooden sword back on the rack. Lord Himura didn't resume practicing. She cocked a quizzical brow at him.

"Is there anything else, my lord?"

"Ah." He ran his thumb uneasily along the bindings on the hilt of his sword. "Forgive one's rudeness, but one did notice that you do not train with a true sword… is that a personal preference?"

"Oh." She flushed a little, uncertain. "I, ah – I gave my sword to the gods, after my father died. As an offering."

His brow furrowed. "You've not purchased another?"

"...no." She looked away. "I – "

He kept looking expectantly at her and the words froze on her tongue. A few days ago, she wouldn't have hesitated: she would have said, coldly, that a noble lady has no need of the warrior's arts, laced it with all her bitterness and smiled inwardly when he flinched. And then he'd gone and asked Master Oguni to come and care for the garden – _asked_ , not ordered, because he thought it might make her happy.

It wasn't the action of an enemy, of someone who deserved her hate and her contempt, of a monster with no human feeling.

But if he didn't – if he wasn't – then what _was_ he?

And could she afford to take the chance?

"…forgive me, honored husband." Her voice was very soft. "It's… a long story."

He bowed his head, and she thought maybe he'd understood anyway.

"A warrior should not be without a weapon," he said, after a moment's pause. "Please – one must confess that it has been some time since one has purchased a sword, so it has," and he tried to smile at that, tentative, like someone who isn't sure they've been forgiven, "but – if there is anything one can do to assist, that is…"

She turned sharply on her heel, knowing it was rude but unwilling to let him probe further, and felt him retreating. Her eyes closed and her hands tightened, not quite forming fists. And now he was offering to _arm_ her. And that smile – why would he seek her _forgiveness?_ As though her opinion of him mattered, when she was his lawful wife and bound to obey his every whim.

"I'll – I'll keep that in mind," she forced out, past the indescribable _something_ welling in her throat, and left to bathe.

~*~

Kenshin didn't eat dinner that night; he wasn't terribly hungry and he'd never had much of an appetite. And he'd forced his presence on the Lady Kaoru enough for one day. He ordered tea, instead, and took out the old calligraphy set. _Her_ calligraphy set; she had given it to him, but it would always be hers. It had been a kind of joke between them: his untutored scrawls next to her elegant lines.

 _The art of calligraphy is the art of the sword_ , his master had told him, years and tides of blood ago. _Brushstroke, swordstroke: neither, once made, can be undone. Do you understand?_

He hadn't. Not until it was too late.

He became aware of the slow shuffle of feet towards his door. A woman: one of the maids, bringing his tea. He sighed, very quietly, and prepared to ignore her. He had tried to be kind to his servants, once, to learn their names and faces and take an interest in their lives, and then he'd realized that kindness frightened them even more. Now he simply ignored them.

"Excuse me, I've brought the tea," the maid called from beyond the shoji.

"Enter," he said shortly, staring at the blank rice paper and remembering. _  
_  
 _Your handwriting is terrible, dear husband,_ and her eyes had laughed even as her mouth stayed fixed in that gentle line. He'd apologized for it, uncertain, and she'd nudged the writing desk towards him.

 _I will teach you,_ she'd said. _When all this is over._ And she'd looked up at him, and for brief moment her serene mask had cracked, and she had smiled at him.The shoji slid open. He looked up, briefly, and his eyes widened.

"Honored husband." The Lady Kaoru bowed briefly and stepped through, carrying the tea tray. "May I join you?"

He stared at her and swallowed, hard. She was wearing a simple kimono – of course she was, it wasn't breakfast or dinner. This was what she normally wore, how she always looked; the only times he really saw her were formal occasions – a simple kimono with a pattern of white magnolia blossoms against a deep blue background. Her hair was tied back in a mare's tail, as it had been that afternoon when he'd invaded her sword practice, instead of swept up and encrusted with hairpins and jewels. Two bangs framed her face, bringing out the strength in her face.

His fingers twitched with a sudden urge to reach out and grasp one of the strands, to run it through his fingers and know that she was real. It wasn't as though she could stop him _._ She was staring directly at him, with that bold, fearless gaze she had whenever she thought he wasn't looking, whenever she wasn't trying her hardest to be an innocuous wife, and he couldn't think what he had possible done to be rewarded with this willing glimpse behind her mask.  
 _  
_Then her gaze fell on the writing desk in front of him.

"Forgive me, honored husband," she said, setting down the tray with eyes downcast. Her mask was on again. "I've interrupted your meditations. I shall be going now." And then she was walking away.

"Wait!" The cry came unbidden. She stopped, almost to the shoji, and he put his hand down quickly before she could see he'd reached out. "Honored wife. Please. One would be delighted to have your company, that I would."

He bowed slightly as he said it, an invitation and an apology. She was still for a heartbeat, then turned.

"As you wish, honored husband," she said, and went to sit beside him.

The day was drawing to a close. The dying light cast the garden in muted tones: soft purples and greys, and shadows black as charcoal. They knelt side-by-side, watching the flowers grow, and above their heads the night bled ink into the lingering sunset. He could feel her warmth, even across the gap between them: only a few inches, but it might as well have been miles. Kenshin studied her profile in the dying light, all his unvoiced wishes yearning towards her, and refused to put words around his desires. Even in the silence of his heart.

There was a _plop_ of splashing water from the pond. The Lady Kaoru smiled, brief and wistful.

"Ginko," she said quietly. There was laughter in her voice.

"Ginko?" He spoke without quite meaning to and flicked his gaze quickly away from hers when she looked at him, staring out into the garden instead. Ripples were spreading across the water's surface. For a moment he thought she might not answer.

"The silver carp," she said, voice still soft. "She's a family heirloom, you know."

"I didn't." He sipped nervously at his tea.

"Family legend says she's over two hundred years old. I don't know if that's true, but she was already that size when I was born, and Father swore she was alive when he was a child. And that his father swore the same thing to him. So maybe she is that old."

It was the most she'd ever said to him at one time, and the only time she'd ever spoken freely. Her voice was clear and bright, and beautiful. Like everything else about her.

Kenshin took another sip of tea, larger than was prudent, and fought back a cough.

"…you love this place very much, so you do." He exhaled softly as he said it, not quite a sigh.

"It's my home," she said, matter-of-fact and yet not. There was grief there, grief he didn't know how to assuage. "Or it was. Now my home is wherever my lord husband chooses."

Well, no. He did. He just didn't want to; but he had to, and a clear salt-stained hollow grew in his chest as he contemplated what he was going to do. What he'd known he had to do ever since he'd seen her in the training hall that afternoon, completely in her element, heard the things she'd left unsaid and realized the extent of the sacrifice she'd made for her family's sake.

"And if one chose this place?" he asked her, so quietly that she leaned unconsciously towards him to hear it, and he caught the scent of jasmine rising from her skin.

"…my lord?" Her eyes were wary and dark in the growing shadows. "I thought the shōgun required your presence in Edo for at least another year."

"True." His fingers tightened around the teacup. "But you need not reside there, you do not. When one returns to Edo… if you wish to remain behind, at Hito, that is, then… you may."

She drew away, back straightening, and stared hard at him.

"Have I displeased you, honored husband?"

"No," he said, confused. "But one – "

"Then why are you sending me away?" There was fear in her voice – his fault – when there should never be fear in her. Kenshin felt the peace of the moment slipping away and lunged for it as best he could.

"No! Not sent away." He gulped air like a drowning man. "One – one is not _displeased_. It is only that," another deep breath, "…one never saw you smile, in Edo. It seems you only smile when you are here."

She exhaled slowly, sounding almost surprised, and her shoulders sank down in a sudden release of tension.

"One does not – cannot – pretend to understand your circumstances, honored wife," he continued, hoping he was making some kind of a sense as the words stumbled over themselves on his tongue. "One does not expect you to be – happy – with the situation, as it is. But, given the circumstances, one hopes – one hopes at the very least to avoid causing you further distress, that I do. Very much."

She stared at the cup in her hands, face very still, turning it slowly counterclockwise while the tea whirled the opposite direction. He waited. There was nothing else he could do.

"My sisters," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"My sisters. Can you – can you transfer their guardianship to me? So that they come with us, when we return to Edo?"

"Oro?"

Her lips twitched upward in honest amusement, a pale reflection of the smile that had hit him like a lightning bolt in the garden the other day but close enough to make his heart feel like it was breaking.

"You – will return to Edo?" he said, recovering as quickly as he could.

"If my sisters can come with me."

"One – yes. That can be done," he said weakly, overcome with the feeling that the world had tilted very slightly on its axis while he wasn't looking. "Will be done. That is."

"It's settled, then," she said primly, sipping her tea for the first time since she'd sat down and looking out across the night garden. Kenshin watched her in astonishment, uncertain – for the first time – of her feelings and motives.

She didn't feel _afraid_. There had been none of the dire courage that had enveloped her on their wedding night, that sense of a warrior walking bravely to their doom. He didn't quite know how to describe the change in her, except that the fire in her heart seemed brighter than ever. As it had when he'd walked in on her that afternoon. She had been _blazing_ with power, alight with it, and it taken everything he had not to catch her up in his arms and kiss her breathless. He'd _wanted_ her – wanted her as he hadn't wanted a woman in years. As he'd never thought he'd want anyone again.

She'd seen it. She had to have seen it. He'd barely been able to control his reaction, never mind hide it.

How had that changed things between them?

But even as he tried to figure it out, a deeper knowledge welled up from under his confusion. She wasn't afraid of him. Not anymore. _She wasn't afraid._

And that thought kept him warm long after the tea was done and she retired for the evening to her separate chamber.


	4. the female of the species

 They left Hito Castle about midmorning, on a day that was ferociously hot for so early in the year. The road was baked hard as a rock, and their passage sent up clouds of dust that choked the palanquin-bearers and was probably fairly miserable for the Lady Kaoru, who was forbidden to ride by her sex and station. Kenshin kept the horses as far back in the procession as was feasible to try and cut down on the worst of it, except for his own grey mare. He rode a little bit behind her palanquin, inside the guard perimeter. Just in case.

The change in regime had left quite a few samurai masterless and without income, and desperate men were the most dangerous kind. And although peasants had been forbidden to carry weapons for the past ten years, many who had been trained before the ban kept their skills sharp in secret. The country was well on its way to true unity, but the villages were still being unsettled by the disruptions among the nobility. There were enough dissidents and ronin moving openly through the countryside that a little extra caution was warranted.

Especially since the lady didn't travel alone; her sisters were with her. And while it was unacceptable to fail in his duty to her, it was _beyond_ unacceptable to allow children under his protection to come to harm.

The girls had been overjoyed to hear that they were going to live with their elder sister. Their aunt and uncle, less so; Kenshin had had to tread very carefully there, barely managing to get away with nothing more than a promise to seriously consider taking Sir Miyauchi's son on as a page, and to give an answer in the matter soon. There had been an implication that he was to forget his wife's words on the matter and focus on the political advantages of strengthening his ties with the former ruling family of his province. After all, it had been strongly hinted, while no dutiful samurai would dare contravene the authority of the shōgun and, by extension, the Imperial Son of Heaven, not all samurai were as honorable as they should be.

"In other words," he muttered to himself, "give us what we want, or we'll make trouble."

This was politics, then. No wonder his master had told him to stay out of it.

One of the guards cleared his throat.

"My lord?"

"Yes?" Kenshin blinked down at him. The man swallowed.

"Forgive this lowly person," he said carefully, "but I did not quite hear my lord's command."

"Command – ? Oh. Ah. One was only thinking aloud – it's nothing."

"Of course, my lord," he said quickly. "Your pardon."

Kenshin stifled a sigh as the guard resumed his careful watch of the road. He was going to have to watch his tendency to talk to himself; it was a bad habit, anyway. He wasn't sure where he'd picked it up, but Sano had teased him about it fairly soon after they'd met, so it must have started shortly after…

He shook his head quickly, as if he could chase away the memories. But it was too late. It had become harder and harder not to remember as he and the Lady Kaoru settled into a delicate cease fire. It was hard not to feel that he'd danced this dance before, that he knew how this story would end: he'd been paralyzed more than once over the past few days by the sudden conviction that he needed to refuse her company, to order her to stay in Hito and far away from him.

But every time he'd tried to say it the words had frozen solid in his throat. He was working on convincing himself that it was because it would be easier to protect her if she was close by, but he'd always been a terrible liar.

"What it is," he started to mutter again, and then caught himself. _What it is, is that you're a selfish fool who ought to be ashamed of himself; there are no second chances for men such as you –_

Screams rang out from the rear of the procession. The palanquin halted immediately, the guards falling into a ready stance as Kenshin pulled his horse around. He shielded his eyes against the sun, saw the mob of ragged, armed men falling on the packhorses, and in the next heartbeat he was on the ground and the mare was galloping off as she'd been trained to. She wasn't a warhorse, after all.

She didn't need to be.

He drew his sword, measuring the distance between himself and the bandits and tensed to cover it. Then he froze, because the enemy was over _there_ , but the Lady Kaoru and her sisters were over _here_ , and those were men who answered to _him_ falling and bleeding into the dust but _his wife was here_ –

"Go!" he shouted at the palanquin guards, acting on his decision before he realized he'd made it. "Help them!"

He pointed to the struggling second half of the procession. The guards glanced at each other, uncertain; Kenshin glared and roared in his master's voice.

" _Now!_ "

They charged. The bearers stared at him, wide-eyed, and he snarled at them to _run_ and find safety. They obeyed immediately, setting down the palanquin with a jarring thud. The door started to swing open and he then was next to it, forcing it closed.

"What's happening?" Lady Kaoru demanded, eyes fierce. There was a dagger in her hand. Her sisters huddled behind her, eyes wide and silent as only a samurai daughter could be when danger came.

"Stay here, honored wife," he told her as a second wave crested over the hill just beyond the palanquin, putting all his urgency into his voice. "Do not stray from this spot."

Kenshin had just enough time to notice her look at his face and blanch, and then the mob and the blood-tide took him.

Of all his many shames, this was perhaps one of the greatest: that he only felt guilty _after_ the battle, when he returned to himself and saw the human wreckage lying around him. In the moment, in the heat of the fight, the world slowed and the men he cut down seemed to have no more substance or self than shadows. They were targets, nothing more, a collection of vulnerabilities, cut _here_ and thrust _there_.

They couldn't touch him. After the first dozen fell in the space between two breaths, they didn't even try. They broke and ran and he let them run, because they weren't a threat any longer.

Except one. This bandit had separated from the mob before the charge and crept up on the opposite side of the palanquin, matchlock rifle in hand. His hand was on the door when Kenshin howled a challenge and charged; the bandit jolted back and raised his rifle. There was a crack of gunfire and a searing pain in his shoulder as Kenshin leapt over the palanquin and swept his sword across and down, the familiar resistance of bone against steel jarring briefly through his wrists and shocking his wound. Blood and viscera sprayed through the air to drench the front of his clothes and the bandit fell into the dust in two neat halves.

His shoulder ached. Kenshin grabbed at it, his blood seeping warmly through his fingers. The rest of the bandits were fleeing; some of the guards were pursuing, while the rest were dealing with the wounded. There was no immediate threat.

"My lady wife," he said, turning to the palanquin as he sheathed his sword. "You are unhurt?"

The rush of battle was fading rapidly, and the ache in his shoulder was spreading to consume the rest of him. His vision greyed out, briefly, and he shook his head. Mistake. It only made him dizzier. He really should let someone get the bullet out before it poisoned his blood…

Had to be sure.

"Are you alright?" he asked again, taking a step forward. The lady was partway out of the palanquin, still clutching the dagger, and her eyes were wide and shocky. Afraid. Again. His fault.

"…I'm fine," she whispered. He tried to smile reassuringly at her, forgetting that he was soaked in another man's blood.

"That's well, so it is…" he said, tongue lying thick and strangely unresponsive in his mouth. It was hard to think past the throbbing heat in his shoulder. "One does not wish… for harm…"

The world tilted under his feet and he stumbled, falling to one knee.

"…your pardon, honored wife," he managed to mumble, and then the world went away for a while.

~*~

Kaoru stared at her husband for a long heartbeat: stared at the blood staining his clothes and trickling in rivulets from the body lying on the packed earth behind him. It rolled like raindrops down the slight slope in the road, gathering dust at the head of each stream like floodwater debris.

"Big sister?"

She turned automatically to Ayame, her numb hand still clenched around her dagger. Her sisters were curled in the corner behind her, clutching tight to one another. Suzume had buried her face in Ayame's sleeve. Which was only to be expected: she was still just a child. Ayame was pale with fright but she hadn't looked away, and in some distant place Kaoru resolved to praise her sister for her courage as soon as her heart stopped roaring in her ears.

Nothing _human_ could have moved like he had. Like the lightning, or a striking snake…

"Is it over?" Ayame asked, and Kaoru forced a reassuring smile.

"I think so, little sister," she said, sliding one foot gingerly out of the palanquin. The blood split to flow around her sandal. "Stay there a while longer while I go and see, alright?"

"'kay." There was the barest tremor of unshed tears in her voice, but she kept control.

Lord Himura had rolled onto his side when he collapsed. Some of the blood was running into his hair. _Dyed by the blood of his victims_ , the rumours said, and she realized suddenly that they couldn't possibly be true. Blood was far too deep a red. The colors didn't match at all.

"…ru. Lady Kaoru. My lady."

Shirojo's voice faded in past the roaring and she turned to him, breath short and sharp in her lungs. Misao had kept her promise; she'd found Shirojo insinuated among her personal guard the day after the hot springs, the day after her husband had offered her freedom – as much freedom as could be offered, anyway – and she had turned him down. Why had she done that? There had been a reason…

" _My lady_ ," Shirojo said, as sharply as he dared. "Are you hurt?"

"…no," she whispered, and swallowed. "No," she said again, willing strength into her voice. Her spine straightened and she lifted her chin, looking past him to the slaughter that surrounded the palanquin. Men's bodies lay like broken dolls, shattered and piecemeal. None of them had stood a chance. Lord Himura had moved through them like wildfire in a drought, and blood had flown as water in his wake.

She glanced down to where he lay at her feet, slack-faced and unconscious. Such a small man, such a delicate frame. How could the demon she'd just seen be the same man who stumbled over his own words and flinched when he met her eyes, who looked at her as though she was something remote and precious and untouchable…?

Kaoru sucked down a deep breath, ignoring the foul, fruity smell of voided bowels and scattered brain matter.

"Lord Himura is injured," she said, more firmly. "One of the bandits had a rifle. He needs a doctor as soon as possible."

"Over here!" Shirojo called, gesturing to the other guards. "Hurry! Our lord is wounded!"

There was a mass migration towards the palanquin and its charnel mess. Not an organized one: she saw some men leaving the wounded half-tended.

"Stop!"

The men ignored her. She snorted, momentarily too frustrated to be stunned, and turned to Shirojo again.

"Shirojo, don't let them leave off caring for the wounded," she snapped. "The bandits might come back. We need to get to the village as soon as possible."

He nodded, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Oy!" he bellowed. "See to the wounded! Get everyone moving! We need to get to the village! You, you, and you," he shouted, pointing to the three warriors closest to the scene. "Help me get our lord in the palanquin! Lady Kaoru," he said, lowering his voice, "I'm afraid you and your sisters are going to have to walk…"

"It's no trouble," she said automatically, holding out her hand to her sisters. "Ayame, Suzume. Come on, now. We have to let Lord Himura have the palanquin."

Suzume shook her head and hugged her sister tighter. Ayame looked up at Kaoru, helpless, and there were tears glimmering in the corner of her eyes.

"Suzume," Kaoru said softly. "Remember that you are samurai."

" _No,_ " Suzume choked out. "Don't wanna. Don't _wanna!_ "

Ayame was on the verge of breaking down herself. Her lower lip trembled. Kaoru knelt down, and blood soaked through her kimono at the knees.

"Come here." She opened her arms. "It's alright now."

Suzume threw herself into Kaoru's arms and buried her face in her sister's shoulder, sobbing. Ayame crept carefully out from the shadowed corner of the palanquin and grabbed Kaoru's hand tightly before she stepped carefully into the road, staring determinedly at the middle distance. Kaoru kept a firm grip on her sister's hand as she stood, cradling Suzume in her other arm. Hot tears seeped into her clothes where Suzume was quietly weeping.

"Hush now," she murmured, holding her littlest sister close. "Ssh. It's alright. You're samurai and the daughter of samurai, little sister, you don't need to be afraid."

"Big sister?" Ayame's hand started shaking in her own. Kaoru glanced down and saw that she was staring at Lord Himura as his men crowded around him, doing their best to stop the bleeding and checking for any other wounds. Not that they would find any.

"Is lord brother-in-law going to be okay?"

"Of course," Kaoru said smoothly, although she didn't know. If the doctor could get the bullet out, maybe; if not, then blood poisoning would set in, and odds were she'd be a widow before much longer. "He's very strong. Everything's going to be fine."

Ayame nodded and pressed herself against Kaoru's leg. Carefully, Kaoru led her sisters away from her husband's slaughterground, stepping gingerly through the strewn remains. Lord Himura's horse grazed idly at the side of the road, unconcerned.

"My lady." Shirojo bowed slightly to her. "Some of the bandits were captured. What should we do with them?"

"What should you…?" she repeated, then caught herself. "Who are they? Ronin?"

"Some." He exhaled, hard. "Some are peasants, my lady. I believe – I think some of the farmers are from Hito. My lady."

_From Hito_. The implications were cold enough to cut through the fog of fading adrenaline. Hito farmers had turned bandit, had attacked their appointed lord – the lord that the shōgun had granted the province to, disregarding generations of Kamiya rule. It was easily interpreted as a sign of rebellion; the very rebellion that Lord Himura was tasked with preventing by any means necessary.

Ayame protested as her hand was suddenly crushed.

They needed to be killed, here and now, before anyone could identify them. She knew that. She _knew_ that. She knew the order she had to give, and nevermind that they were her _people_ , whom she was honor-bound to guide and guard from harm…

If she sent them to her uncle he would only make examples of them. Lord Himura would most likely do the same, if she waited for him to recover and deferred to his wishes. It was the rational, political thing to do: they and their families would die long and unclean deaths, to frighten any further dissidents and prove that the rulers of the province accepted the Tokugawa yoke without reservation. To spare them now would only ensure that she was not personally responsible for their deaths, would only force others to bloody their hands…

Her father had told her: _that is what means, to lead men. Our lives are not our own._

Kaoru closed her eyes and took a breath, drawing air and life into her core and letting it out slowly.

"The ronin are masterless, but they are still samurai," she said finally. "Give them the chance to die as samurai; have some of the men serve as seconds. As for the others… quickly. Without pain. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lady." Shirojo bowed, and she couldn't read his face. Then he went to carry out her orders.

~*~

The village wasn't far. Kaoru could have walked it easily, if not for the girls; so she'd commandeered one of the packhorses and loaded them on it, walking with one hand on the old mare's neck while Shirojo held the reins.

Tae was safe. Kaoru had been able to ascertain that much before the guards had started pressing everyone to move, now. Tae was safe and unharmed and had everything well under control: in fact, most of the servants were fine. It was mainly samurai who'd been injured.

No one had been able to take Lord Himura's horse in hand, nor had they needed to. She'd followed her master's palanquin without being instructed, occasionally butting her head against the bearers' backs and snorting, apparently because she liked the way it made them jump. The bearers were pale and shaking: the guards had nearly executed them all for deserting their posts before Kaoru had managed to convince them that Lord Himura had ordered them to hide.

She had trouble believing it herself, come to think of it. How could a man show such consideration for the least of his entourage and yet be… what he was? Do what he had done? A dozen men slaughtered in less time than it took to draw breath…

One guard had ridden ahead to warn the village that they were coming, banner snapping in the wind. The rest of the procession moved as quickly as they could, leaving the blood and bodies where they'd fallen. Every ronin in the attack had chosen an honorable suicide: most had died well, without flinching. As for the farmers…

Kaoru buried her fingers in the horse's mane.

It had been quick and painless, this way. And their families would be safe. A traitor's family shared the same fate as the traitor: because she'd ordered their deaths here, because she'd taken that blood on her hands, their families would be spared.

Men from the village met them halfway, with stretchers for the wounded and strong arms to bear them to the inn. Lord Himura was taken to the headman's house, where whomever they had to serve as a doctor was waiting to tend to him. The mare finally allowed herself to be caught and taken off to a stable, and Shirojo took the girls down from their horse before he led that one off, too.

Kaoru and her sisters were left standing in the foreyard of the headman's home. Suzume was an exhausted lump in her arms; Ayame was barely on her feet. Kaoru bowed her head to her youngest sister and caught a glimpse of the blood staining her kimono. She needed a bath: she needed to burn these clothes. She needed to scrub the stench of death out of her hair…

"My lady." Tae was at her side, taking Suzume gently from her arms. Her voice was calm and gentle and Kaoru let her take Suzume without thinking. "Go with O-tsuki to the bathhouse. I'll see to the little ones. You should cleanse yourself."

"I – yes." Kaoru shook her head a little, unable to cut through the feel of cotton wool. Tae would take care of it. Tae always took care of things. "Of course."

O-tsuki was one of the junior maids. She was pale and shaken and hiding it as best she could as she led Kaoru gently down the hall. Kaoru could feel something wrong, something nagging at the back of her mind. She couldn't quite make sense of it, though: everything was coming through distorted, like she was traveling underwater. Her legs and her head ached from the walk and unshed tears.

She hadn't been able to watch the men die. She'd owed it to them, to look into their eyes as they died because she'd ordered it, but there was blood on her clothes and her sandals and the bodies strewn like cordwood, entrails lying in the dust and she hadn't had the strength to do more than turn her head and walk away.

The bath was large and hot and Kaoru let herself be undressed, scrubbed and herded into it, at least until the searing heat began to unknot her muscles and soothe her. Then she bolted upright.

"The girls!"

"My lady – " O-tsuki tried to protest.

But Kaoru was already out of the bath and sliding into the clean yukata that the headman's wife had provided, fuming at Tae for babying her and at herself for letting Tae do it. She bolted from the bathhouse, ignoring O-tsuki's cries, and went to find her sisters.

She passed by a few people in the hall – guards, maids, a woman who was probably the headman's wife by the quality of her clothing – all of whom looked a little shocked to see Lord Himura's wife tearing through the halls. She snatched a maid by the sleeve and demanded to know where her sisters were. The woman pointed and Kaoru took off again, skidding to a halt outside the indicated room. She threw the shoji back, heart pounding.

Ayame and Suzume were tucked safely away in a futon, curled around each other like new-budded ferns. Tae knelt by their side, singing softly. Kaoru sagged with relief.

"Is there something wrong, my lady?" Tae asked. Kaoru glared.

"I'm not a child anymore, you know," she said shortly, stepping into the room and closing the screen behind her. "I don't need to be coddled."

Tae only smiled. Kaoru knelt next to her sisters and smoothed a hand over their heads. Strands of Suzume's hair were sticking to her cheeks, plastered there by her tears. Kaoru brushed them away.

"They're my responsibility, now," she said quietly. "I have to take care of them."

"You're barely more than a child yourself, my lady," Tae said, voice laced with gentle humor.

"I'm a married woman."

"…so you are." Tae sighed. "The doctor is still with Lord Himura."

"Is there any news?"

"It could go either way." She met Kaoru's eyes and held them, speaking very carefully. "It would be dreadful to be widowed so soon, wouldn't it?"

Innocent words, in case the walls had ears; but her meaning was clear enough. Strong noon light slanted in through the screens, sheathing the air with a subtle gold.

"It's out of our hands now," she said. "All we can do is pray."

"That's so." Tae reached out and clasped Kaoru's hands. Kaoru felt the sharp slide of folded paper against her skin, the faint weight of the medicine packet as it dropped into her sleeve. No medicine here, she knew, and understood what Tae was suggesting to her. "We'll all pray, my lady."

"I should go see him," she said numbly. The packet seemed like a leaden weight: a choice, hers to make. She'd never get another opportunity like this.

Suzume sniffled in her sleep.

"The doctor may not allow it until tomorrow," Tae said, warning in her tone.

"He'll let me in." Kaoru stood, smiling grimly. "After all, I'm Lord Himura's wife."

~*~

Kaoru knelt at the head of her husband's futon, watching him sleep, and all she could think was that he looked far too young to be what he was. He was almost thirty, she knew that much, and when he was awake it was evident in the careful gravity with which he carried himself and the certainty in his movements. But now, fast asleep and shivering slightly with the weight of unconsciousness, he didn't look his age at all. He looked barely twenty: he looked like a man who'd aged too quickly.

He was so small. She hadn't really realized it until now, how very small he was. He loomed so large in her mind that she'd simply never noticed. But he was small, now, lying in bed with his sword curving gently over his head and blood seeping through his bandages. Small and fragile and harmless.

And if she didn't know – if she hadn't seen – she might have been touched by his vulnerability. But he _wasn't_ harmless. She wasn't sure that he was even human, now that she'd seen him fight. The shōgun's demon unleashed…

A dozen men cut down in two heartbeat's time and only their fallen bodies to mark Lord Himura's passage. She hadn't even _seen him move_ , just the slaughter in his wake. No wonder the Western Army had been defeated. How could anything stand a chance against something like that? It must have been like trying to fight a storm, or the turning of the tide…

Lord Himura had fought at Sekigahara. So had Father. Father had _died_ there. He must have seen Lord Himura moving like a whirlwind across the battlefield, carving empty spaces out of men's flesh like a carpenter lathing away at excess wood. He must have known how hopeless it was.

Uncle had said that Father died defending their former liege.

Had he been ordered into the breach? Had he charged into that terrible vacuum of steel and dying men? Had he faced Lord Himura at all, or had his death come at someone else's hands? Would Lord Himura tell her, if she asked? Would he even know?

Probably not. He couldn't possibly have time to note the faces of the men he killed.

There was a bit of blood on his husband's hairline. They had changed his clothes and cleaned him but missed that one, tiny streak: she was grateful for that little red smear, because it told her that what she'd seen had been real and not some desperate night terror. She hadn't married a man after all.

He made a sound deep in his throat, as though he'd heard her thoughts and wanted to respond.

The doctor had taken the bullet out and cleansed the wound with sake and herbs. Lord Himura had been lucky, he'd told her solemnly. The bullet had gone in clean, and come out easily. Often they shattered on impact, making them impossible to remove fully, and the fragments of metal would work their way through the body and into the blood. Death could come without warning, days or even weeks after an apparent recovery. But that probably wouldn't be the case here, he'd hastened to reassure her. If Lord Himura survived the night, he would most likely be fine. He'd told her that and left her there to stand sentinel at his side, with a pot of tea to see her through her vigil.

If. _If_ he survived.

The medicine packet Tae had given her burned against her palm, hidden under the hands she kept crossed neatly on her lap as she sat at her husband's sickbed. All she had to do was feed him what was inside – mix it with the tea, hold his head up and help him swallow it down – and it would all be over, with nothing that could point to her or her family as the culprits. All the bandits were dead, still formally unidentified. It would only be a terrible and unexpected tragedy, and yes, the shōgun would assign another lord to Hito province and she would probably have to marry that one, too – if not her, then a cousin, or perhaps one of her sisters would be engaged to the new lord's son – but _anyone_ was better than a monster.

She had agreed to return to Edo with him.

Partly because she couldn't afford not to. This marriage had to succeed: any sign that it wasn't, that he was less than pleased with her or that he was considering setting her aside would jeopardize her family's frail hold on the few scraps of power and prestige that it had left. She _had_ to please him, somehow; if it would please him to see her smile, then she would have to learn to fake it. If it would please him to believe she loved him, then she would have to…

But it hadn't only been duty.

The way he looked at her… like a man stepping out of a long darkness and blinking in the sunlight, dazed and starving. Like someone who had everything they'd ever wanted spread out before them and yet couldn't touch any of it, could only watch as it slipped through their fingers. She believed what she'd told Misao: even now, in her heart of hearts, she believed it. He would never hurt her. He couldn't possibly look at her that way and still be able to hurt her.

He owed her nothing, not even the smallest scrap of dignity, but the only thing he'd asked of her was that she attend him at some of his meals. He'd sought out Master Oguni – who _never_ would have come if he'd believed that Lord Himura was an evil man, not _ever_ – and let her continue her sword training. So she'd taken a chance: brought him tea and swallowed her bitterness and tried to speak to him as though he were only a man. Because he hadn't acted as her enemy, not even on their wedding night, and she felt – that she owed him a chance, at least, to prove himself. To prove that the stories weren't true.

And then, today, he'd proven that they were.

_Don't stray from this spot,_ he'd told her in a voice like ice, and his eyes had blazed pale and cold as winter, lit with some inner fire.

He'd slaughtered them…

Kaoru closed her eyes.

She'd come so close. Been so very nearly fooled. But she knew, now, what he was: the shōgun's demon, and if there was a man in there then he was only an echo. Lord Himura was her enemy. Her _enemy_. She'd ordered the deaths of men who looked to her family for guidance and protection and it was _because of him_ , because _he_ had ensured Lord Tokugawa's victory, because _he_ had taken over their province and left them no other choice. So he was kind to her – so what? How could that ever, _ever_ make up for the rest of it? For her father's death and his broken promise, for the loss of her family and her home, for the dishonor of being on the losing side. No amount of kindness could ever give any of that back to her.

That he would even try…

He stirred again, making another one of those strange, protesting noises. Her hand clenched around the medicine packet as his eyes slowly opened.

"…honored wife," he rasped out, and there was something very like awe in his eyes. She had a sudden urge to scratch them out for daring to look at her that way – as though he had any right to long for her.

"My lord," she said evenly.

"You're here." He was staring at her, stunned, and she wanted to slap him and shake him and _scream_ at him until he understood that she would never, ever, _ever –_

He seemed to be expecting a response. Kaoru swallowed, feeling the lines of the folded paper against her skin. One dose. _Just feed him what's in the packet, and everything will end…_

"Well," she said finally. "I'm your wife, aren't I?"

Lord Himura smiled at her, eyes sparkling, and tried to sit up. He winced and grabbed at his shoulder.

"Don't," she said. "The doctor said you shouldn't strain yourself."

She turned to the tea tray, shielding it carefully from view as she poured a cup and tore the packet open, letting the deadly powder slide into the lukewarm tea. She stirred it a few times with her finger, waiting for it to dissolve.

"How are your sisters?" he asked softly, and she nearly spilled the cup.

"…they are… sleeping. My lord."

"Are they…?" He paused, then, and she could imagine the look on his face: brow drawn, hesitant, speaking with the care of a man whose life depends on his next few words. The way he'd looked whenever they'd spoken these past few days, as a fragile truce had built between them.

"Were they badly frightened?" he said, after a long pause, and there was desperate worry in his voice.

"…they are samurai, honored husband," she whispered, shame spearing briefly through her that he would dare to ask.

"Ah." He sounded a little sad. "That's so, it is… then, one should ask – were they brave?"

Her hand spasmed, splashing tea across the lacquered tray. A few drops fell onto the tatami and she clenched her fist near her heart, remembering despite herself.

She had been young, barely ten years old, and so sure of herself. Her parents had told her not to go past the marked paths in the forest, so of course she had, and startled a she-bear waking from hibernation. She never could remember how she'd managed to escape: just her panicked heart pounding in her chest and the long, breathless minutes as she ran and ran _away_ as fast as her legs could carry her, the bear roaring outrage as it crashed through the underbrush in pursuit.

Her father had found her hiding in one of spare rooms, weeping. It wasn't only that she'd been yelled at and sent to bed without supper, she'd gasped out, choked with shame. It was that she'd been _afraid_.

He'd knelt beside her and folded her into his arms, rocking her gently.

"Only a fool is never afraid," he'd told her quietly, stroking her hair. "The question to ask is not whether you were afraid, but whether you were brave despite it. Were you brave, little Kaoru?"

"I don't know," she'd wailed between sobs. "I ran away!"

"Did you?" His eyes had been warm – they were always warm – and the corners had crinkled in a hidden smiled. "From the bear, certainly, and that was very wise. But you didn't lie about what had happened, or try to hide. That is brave, too, little Kaoru: to accept the consequences of our mistakes. There are many ways to be brave."

The sun had poured through the room and lit them both, gleaming off the polished wooden pillars. It was always so bright in her memories: even in the rainy days, the sun was always shining. It was bright today, too bright for so early in the summer. The rains would come as a relief.

She let out a deep, shuddering breath, and her fingers clenched around the poisoned tea.

"Yes, honored husband." And if there was a quavering note in her voice, the bare hint of vulnerability, then what did it matter? It would all be over soon. "They were very brave."

"Ah."

_Turn_ , she urged herself. _Turn and hand him the tea_. He would take it. He trusted her. He would take it and drink, and sleep, and never wake again. Bullet wounds were dangerous; they could kill a hundred different ways. No one would suspect, and even if someone did there would be no proof. No proof at all.

It would be so easy.

"It seems," he started to say. His voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat. "One must beg your forgiveness, lady wife."

She couldn't see his eyes but she knew what they would look like. Hungry and pleading.

"…my forgiveness?"

"One knew there were bandits in the area." She thought she heard him swallow. "There should have been – one could have done more, surely, to prevent what occurred. That you and your sisters should be endangered in such a way…"

She exhaled sharply, hysteria trying to climb its way out of her throat. The poison tea trembled in her shaking hands.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"…one will never allow such a thing again," he said, quiet and intense and she turned, slowly, his stare heavy on her skin, to meet the eyes that she knew were boring into her. His gaze was hot and fierce, the same flame that had been in his in the garden and the training hall, and just as before she couldn't tell if it would destroy her or keep her warm forever. "Never again, honored wife. Never if there is anything one can do to prevent it."

He was pale with his wound and the exertion of talking. The smear of blood on his hairline stood out in stark relief.

_Don't stray from this spot_ , he'd said. And now he was looking at her as if all he wanted in the world was to keep her safe…

Without thinking, she reached out her hand to wipe the blood away. He froze under her fingers, hands clenching in the blanket as she swiped it carefully from his skin. He was shaking a little; his breath came short and sharp.

His skin was warm. Not feverish, as she'd half-expected. Just _warm_ , like a sunny place on a porch or a stone in a field on a bright day. He leaned towards her as she drew her hand away, sighing after her touch.

"This tea is cold," she said abruptly, and stood. "I'll bring a fresh pot. You should rest, honored husband."

She fled the room before he could respond and threw the poison away, cursing herself for a fool.

~*~

Kaoru closed the screen behind her, bowing her head. Tae looked up from her sewing, perfectly serene. Ayame and Suzume were still asleep.

"How is your lord husband, my lady?" she asked innocently, only a maid showing proper concern for her lord and master. Kaoru knelt at her sisters' side and tucked the blanket around them.

"His tea was cold," she said, numb and uncertain. "I – I brought him a fresh pot."

"I'm sure he appreciated it." Tae frowned, and Kaoru could guess what she was thinking: that Kaoru wasn't acting like a woman finally freed. "Do you think you should have done more?"

"No." Kaoru looked up, then, and finally met Tae's eyes. "I'm sure I've done enough."

"My lady…?" Tae searched her face, lips pursuing, looking for something that she wasn't going to find.

"Excuse me," someone called from beyond the screen. "My lady, will you permit your lowly guard to enter? There is news that you should hear."

Shirojo's voice: his silhouette, too, lean and alert through the rice paper.

"Come in," Kaoru called. He slid open the screen and nodded to Tae, one professional to another. She raised an eyebrow back at him, lips twisting into a wry smile.

"We can talk freely." Shirojo settled himself on the other side of the girls' futon, the third point in their triangle, and let his samurai mask slip. "No one's listening."

Tae looked at him for a long moment and finally nodded, mouth set in a firm, thin line.

"Then, my lady," she asked Kaoru. "Did you…?"

"I did not," Kaoru said, and smoothed down Ayame's hair. She always woke up with the most ridiculous cowlick.

"Why?" Tae set her sewing aside. "Was the doctor interfering? I can make sure he's out of the room."

"No. I'm not – _we're_ not going to do that. Any of us."

Shirojo glance quickly between them, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "Seems I've missed something?"

"As has our lady, apparently," Tae snapped, sounding as angry as she ever got. Kaoru bit back a retort and laced her fingers in her lap, instead. "Perhaps the best chance we'll ever have – "

"We will _not_ ," Kaoru said again, trying to add the whipcrack of authority she'd heard in her mother's time and again, "take such an action, Tae."

"And why not?" Tae met her eyes and Kaoru saw no anger there: challenge, yes, but not rage. "Will you accept the Tokugawa's rule, then, as your uncle has?"

_The sooner you accept your karma, the sooner you will know peace._

Kaoru stiffened, heart pounding in her throat. Tae watched her carefully, as though measuring her worth.

"No." Kaoru swallowed, hard. "But neither will I poison a man on his sickbed for vengeance's sake."

"Is he a man, then?" Tae kept watching her. "Are you so certain?"

"…no," Kaoru whispered. "But – he hasn't hurt me. Or any of us. He hasn't done anything wrong, except…"

"Except be the ally of your enemy," Tae said softly. Kaoru bowed her head, tongue thick with feelings she had no words for.

"Well, then," Tae said, turning to Shirojo. "What do you think?"

He blanched, holding up both hands. "I don't have an opinion," he said quickly. "I'm just here to protect Lady Kaoru and give her whatever help she asks for."

Tae made a dismissive noise, not quite a snort but not really a laugh, either.

"At least you know your place," she said, amusement lacing her voice. Shirojo shrugged.

"I leave the plotting to m'lord Aoshi." He grinned, and there was something inexpressibly cheerful about it: it made Kaoru want to smile back. "All that political stuff goes right over my head. But, uh, I do know that m'lord really don't think assassination is the way to go, here."

"And why is that?" Tae picked up her sewing again. She was making a new yukata, probably for Suzume: she was about due for another growth spurt.

Shirojo shrugged. "Well, it's not like it'll change anything. Shōgun'll just send a new guy along."

"A better-known lord," Tae pointed out, snipping off a loose thread. "Someone who didn't appear out of the blue fifteen years ago. Someone we can control."

"Yeah, but there's really no guarantee of that, you know…"

"It doesn't matter," Kaoru interrupted. They turned to look at her and she raised her chin, biting hard on her lower lip as uncertainty filled her head with roaring wind and her lungs with fear. "We're not going to assassinate him, even if we're given another opportunity like this. He – "

She took a breath, blood throbbing hot and heavy in her veins. Blood in the dust, blood on Lord Himura's clothing, blood soaking into her sandals. _Don't stray from this spot_ – and a spray of blood drenching him as he stood in front of the palanquin, guarding her. Guarding her sisters.

"He's the ally of our enemy. That doesn't mean he's our enemy – _my_ enemy. He's – I saw, just like you did, what he's capable of. But he's never – if he's done anything to actually _hurt_ Hito province, to hurt the Kamiya since he became our lord, tell me. Because I don't know of anything."

"My lady…" Tae started to say. Kaoru held up her hand, closing her eyes as the pounding in her veins reached her temples.

"Don't," she said. "Don't start. I – I _want_ him to be a monster!" she cried, barely keeping her voice down. "I _wish_ he wasn't – I _hate_ that he's so kind, but – but he _is_ , Tae. He hasn't done a single solitary thing that's really evil, except – except be a loyal vassal to his liege. And the Tokugawa _won_. Maybe they wouldn't have if he hadn't been there, but he was and they _did_. The war is over. We lost."

"We did," Tae said softly. "I don't dispute that, my lady."

"And – I don't know – what good would it do?" Kaoru finished weakly. "If Hito gains a reputation for being difficult…"

"You sound very much like your uncle," Tae said mildly, and Kaoru nearly slapped her.

"Uh…" Shirojo raised his hand. "Um. Well. M'lord Kamiya… isn't exactly wrong, you know. Fighting to the bitter end makes for a good story, but it's bad politics. I know that m'lady loves her father…"

"Don't you _ever_ ," Kaoru said, ice shooting through her veins, "talk about my father."

"Sorry." He ducked his head. "Sorry. But – my point is, Miss Tae – Lady Kaoru – it might be best to lay low and play nice until things settle down. D'you understand? M'lord Aoshi's not intending to do a thing other than keep you safe 'til all the reports are in, I know that much."

"But a transition like this is the best time," Tae argued. "If we wait too long, the Tokugawa will only solidify their hold – "

"Enough!" Kaoru rubbed at her temples, mouth dry. "We're not going to kill him, and that's final. Not – not until – " She exhaled, worrying at her lower lip, and the words came so easily once she'd decided to say them. "Not until I know if he really is my enemy. If he really – deserves to die. Until then – when I know, that's when I'll choose. Not before. Because I don't know, right now."

She looked up at Tae, begging her to understand.

"I don't _know_. And I can't – act – until I _know_."

_Even if it means I'm weak_ , she wanted to say. Even if it was disgracing her father's memory: even if it meant that she was becoming her uncle, who had forgotten all honor and duty to beg the Tokugawa for scraps.

Her father's voice, echoing across the years: _there are many ways to be brave._

"Those are my orders," she said at last, the words echoing in her heart with a terrible finality. "Do you understand?"

"Yes'm," Shirojo said immediately. Tae hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"I understand," she said, very deliberately. "My lady."

"That's settled, then." Kaoru ignored the reproach in Tae's eyes. "Shirojo, was there something you wanted to tell me or was that just an excuse to come into the room?"

"Oh, right." He shook his head and grinned sheepishly. "Uh – you're not gonna like this."

"What else is new?" she said wryly. "Tell me."

"Your cousin – your uncle's kid – is here."

Kaoru blinked. For a moment, the world pitched sideways.

"… _what!?_ "

Shirojo ducked, waving his hands in a conciliatory manner. "I don't know how he did it! But he's passing himself off as an apprentice groom, and – uh, actually, he's doing a pretty damn good job, so far…"

"I'm gonna _kill_ him," Kaoru ground out, fury shaking her limbs. She stood. "I'm going to hogtie him and drown him in the pond and let Ginko _eat_ him! I can't _believe_ – "

"Hey, hey, calm down." Shirojo scrambled to his feet. "Hold on. Think it through."

She loomed over him and he blanched. "I'm just saying. Your uncle's pretty hell-bent on the kid becoming Lord Himura's new page, right? This gets the kid to Edo, at least, and that he's willing to go this far… Lord Himura's gonna _have_ to accept him as a page, right? If I understand the situation correctly," he added quickly. "It'd be too much of a snub, otherwise. And you want to know Lord Himura's character, don't you? So…"

"I _will not_ ," she said, rage in her voice like a snake's rattle, "sacrifice Yahiko for my own ends. And if you _ever_ suggest – "

"Your uncle's gonna use the kid to suck up to the Tokugawa one way or another," Shirojo said bluntly. "If he can't get him into Lord Himura's household, he'll put him somewhere else. Where do you want your cousin – someplace you can keep an eye on him, or with a total stranger?"

Kaoru froze. Shirojo eyed her warily. She withdrew, slowly, gripping her hands tightly over her breastbone.

_Yahiko…_

If her uncle was willing to tie him to monster, who else might he be willing to give him to? She knew the stories as well as anyone: the things no one spoke of openly, of men who took the ancient traditions of love and loyalty between master and apprentice and perverted it, made it something ugly and degrading. It wasn't supposed to happen that way – it was supposed to happen only if the apprentice was of the proper age, and only with his consent – but there were always evil men, and if a man was powerful and careful, who could stop him?

If Yahiko was sent somewhere beyond her reach…

"…he's your responsibility," she forced out through numb lips. "If _any_ harm comes to him, even once, I swear I will make you _suffer_. Do you understand?"

She caught Shirojo's gaze and held it. He blanched, nodding, and his throat worked as he swallowed.

"I understand, my lady. I'll guard him like he was my own brother."

"You had _better_ ," she said fiercely. Then she sighed.

"You should rest, my lady," Tae said without meeting her eyes, stitching away at the yukata.

Kaoru was suddenly exhausted: the weight of the day, of all she'd said and done and decided was crashing down on her, dragging at her like sodden clothes. It was barely past midday, but all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and pretend that nothing had changed.

"I will," she said quietly. "After I bring my husband his tea."

~*~

Lord Himura was asleep again by the time she returned. She watched him for a while: the slow rise and fall of his chest, the small twitches of his dreams. Again, she was struck by how small he seemed, how powerless he looked unless you knew. Unless you'd _seen_.

"…who _are_ you?" she whispered.

He had no answer for her, and when she searched her heart for one all she could see was his hungry, pleading gaze.


	5. who hesitates towards you

"…which I believe concludes our business for the day, Eminence." Lord Hondo bowed deeply towards the shōgun, who frowned.

"Does it?" Kenshin noted a certain canny gleam in his eye, the one that usually meant someone was being given just enough rope to hang themselves with. "There are no other matters which this council must address?"

"No, Eminence." Lord Hondo gave no sign that he'd seen the trap about to spring. Although he must have; he'd served Lord Tokugawa for longer than Kenshin had. Certainly long enough to learn his master's moods.

"How peculiar." Lord Tokugawa flicked his fan out, pointing it at his advisor and looking as though ice wouldn't have melted in his mouth. "For I don't recall our having addressed the matter of Sir Narita's murder."

Kenshin blinked, choking back an exclamation. Sir Narita was the head of a minor clan with a very long history with the Tokugawa. They had been hereditary vassals since the Muromachi shōgunate, and while they had never risen to particularly high rank they had served as examples of true loyalty for as long as they had served the shōgun's family. For him to have been murdered was a direct strike at the Tokugawa and obligated them to uncover and punish the culprit.

And he'd had no idea it had happened. Admittedly, he'd only been back in Edo for a day, but you'd think someone would have told him. He'd met Sir Narita once or twice: an upright man, very stern, but possessing a fearless honor that one rarely saw in these days.

"Unless, of course, you were unaware it had occurred?" Lord Tokugawa raised a single challenging eyebrow, bringing his fan back in and touching it lightly to his chin. "Very unusual, that."

"I – yes, Eminence." Lord Hondo lowered his eyes. "Your pardon, please – but the matter is still under investigation, and it did not seem prudent to bring it to your attention at this time – "

That was a misstep. Kenshin couldn't quite suppress a sympathetic wince as Lord Tokugawa moved into for the kill.

"What was imprudent, my Lord Hondo," the shōgun said coolly, "was your assumption that I, Sir Narita's liege, would not know of the event as soon as it occurred. His family may be a minor one, but they have shed their blood in my clan's name for countless generations; do you mean to suggest that I would not return such loyalty?"

"Of course not!" Lord Hondo bowed carefully. "It is only that I hesitated to bring the news to you without first exercising proper diligence, given the manner in which the crime was committed. If the wrong conclusions were to be drawn – well, it could be disastrous!"

Lord Tokugawa's face darkened. Kenshin furrowed his brow a little, confused; there was a sudden edge to the shōgun's anger that felt almost like – surprise?

"Explain," he rumbled ominously. Lord Hondo bowed again.

"Whoever committed the crime did so without being noticed by either the guards or Sir Narita's family," he said, and there was a strange note of triumph in his voice. "The guards, of course, all committed suicide after giving their testimony, out of shame for their failure. However, an examination of the body by my personal physician indicates that Sir Narita was _not_ surprised by his attacker. There is no evidence that he fought them, nor did he struggle as he died. My physician concluded that he was killed instantly, with a single stroke, and that he most likely never saw the blow or his murderer. It would have required inhuman speed and exceptional prowess to accomplish."

Kenshin's blood froze as he realized the implications. How many times had the Hiten Mitsurugi style been described as one that relied on speed – _inhuman_ speed? That was the source of the stories about him, after all, that he could move quickly enough to slay so many in such a short time.

If there was another swordsman out there, one who could match him in speed… damn it, he would have _known_ about it. They always came looking to challenge him sooner or later. And it couldn't be another practitioner of the Hiten Mitsurugi style…

"Lord _Himura_ ," the shōgun snapped. "I understand that you've a young bride at home, but if you could do us the courtesy of _paying attention?_ "

"Oro?" He shook his head slightly. "Your pardon, Eminence, one was only – the matter of Sir Narita's death…"

"Yes?" Lord Tokugawa inclined his head, indicating that Kenshin had his full attention.

"One must admit to being at a loss," he said simply. "There have been no challenges recently, nor word of any swordsman with inhuman speed. And there are no other practitioners of the Hiten Mitsurugi, save myself. Lord Hondo, are you certain of the circumstances?"

"I am," Lord Hondo said, sounding distinctly smug. "His death came by a sword wielded with inhuman speed."

Kenshin shook his head, wracking his brain for anything he might have missed, any rumor that he might have heard and dismissed, distracted by other affairs. "This is troubling, it is. If a swordsman of such ability has chosen to announce himself for the first time in such a manner… it bodes ill."

"Indeed." The shōgun pursed his lips briefly, then flicked his fan towards Kenshin. "And I can think of no better man to investigate it than yourself."

"Eminence?" He hadn't expected that. Lord Tokugawa had asked him to remain in Edo and serve on his council for the year, yes, but he'd thought it was for security purposes – simply to have him nearby should any trouble arise during the transition. Not to actually meddle in the business of government. It was hardly his forte, after all.

"This murder is a direct insult to my clan," Lord Tokugawa continued, ignoring Kenshin's shock. "It cannot go unaddressed. The murderer must be found and punished for his crime. Therefore, I will be taking personal interest in this case."

"Eminence," Lord Hondo murmured. "Lord Himura has only recently joined this council. Perhaps he would benefit from the assistance of a more experienced colleague…"

"I have every faith in Lord Himura," the shōgun said shortly. "Furthermore, the one thing we do know about the murder is that he is a warrior of exceptional skill. Lord Himura is the only member of this council with sufficient insight into the mind of the swordsman of that caliber. He will see what we cannot – unless any of you claim to match him with a blade?"

He glowered out at his council. Kenshin opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. _Something_ was going on – hostility was crackling through the room, snapping between the councilors and Lord Tokugawa like lightning. There was the crack of a whip in the shōgun's voice; he was openly exerting his authority, reminding the councilors of who their master was. Kenshin had only ever seen him this way a handful a times: once when he had announced that he had traded his home provinces for rulership of the Kanto, accepting uncertainty and the barely-tamed Hojo clan in exchange for greater wealth and future power; again when he'd declared war on Lord Uesugi; and a few other scattered moments in the war, when things had been bleakest.

The councilors murmured, quietly disclaiming any such boast. It was well known that Lord Himura was the greatest swordsman alive, perhaps ever. None would dare to claim to be his equal. The shōgun surveyed them again, eyes fierce, before nodding once and flicking open his fan.

"Then it is settled," he said. "Lord Hondo, you will provide Lord Himura with all that you have uncovered so far concerning this matter. He speaks with my voice in this; give him your full co-operation."

"Yes, Eminence," Lord Hondo said, bowing for a third time. "It is an honor to serve."

"And now our business truly is concluded," Lord Tokugawa declared, snapping his fan shut. "Lord Himura, you will inform me of developments in this matter as they arise; if no progress is made, then we will speak again a week from now."

"As you wish, Eminence," Kenshin said, and bowed.

~*~

Kenshin caught up with Lord Hondo as they left the council chamber and inquired as to when he could expect the results of Lord Hondo's investigation.

"Within in a day," the older man smiled. There was a thin quality to it, deceptive; Kenshin looked hard for a moment, but couldn't sense any malice. "Forgive the delay, Lord Himura, but it will take some time to gather everyone involved in one place."

"That's alright," he said. Lord Tokugawa's disapproval could rattle even the most stalwart soul, so he could hardly blame Lord Hondo for being a bit on edge. "One looks forward to working with you to resolve the matter, that I do," he said, bowing shallowly, equal-to-equal.

"As do I, Lord Himura." Lord Hondo returned the bow, keeping up his narrow smile.

He excused himself and Kenshin started to make his way home. His guards trailed behind him, and he contemplated – not for the first time – the absurdity of someone like him having a guard detail. Protocol and his status demanded it, but the fact remained that _he_ was more likely to end up guarding _them_ in a crisis.

It was another bright, pleasant day. The occasional cloud puffed its way lazily across the brilliant blue sky, following the wind. Servants and retainers hurried past on various errands, bowing quickly as they passed by him under the trees lining the path from the castle keep to the broad avenue where the shōgun's highest-ranking retainers lived. Where he lived.

His paced picked up a little as they passed through the final gate. It had been a long time since he'd looked forward to going home; a long time since home had been more than just a place to sleep and eat. Now it was where the Lady Kaoru lived, too, and her sisters.

Kenshin brushed his forehead absently, remembering.

Her touch had echoed in him like a ringing gong, rich and deep and almost painful. Something had happened that day, after the attack. The truce between them was still fragile, delicate as a blood-feather and just as dangerous if broken, but he could feel it growing stronger. While she didn't treat him as a friend – he didn't dare hope for that, anyway – she spoke to him openly about her life, and they talked to each other about their day. That was more than he'd ever thought to have.

He was yanked from his reverie by the crowd just outside his manor. Men in his livery were scuffling with a man dressed as a traveling martial artist. A remarkably tall man, he noticed as he got closer, with a mane of hair that stood up at spiky angles…

"… _Sano?_ " he called out, bewildered. Sano had been heading for China the last time they'd met; he hadn't expected to see him again for another few years.

"Oi! Kenshin!" Sano looked up from knocking two of Kenshin's retainer's heads together. A few more were hanging off his arms and back, trying to get him on the ground. "Wouldja call 'em off, already?"

"It's alright!" Kenshin hurried over to the scrum. "Sano is a friend, so he is – " He stopped to help one of his men up before moving into the center of the fray.

"See, I friggin' _told_ ya – " Sano was talking at the same time, addressing someone Kenshin dimly recognized as one of the shift captains. He looked warily at Sano, then bowed to Kenshin.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said. "But is this man truly…?"

"Yes, yes," Kenshin waved his hands reassuringly. "An unexpected visit, it is, or one would have told the guards to expect him. Please let him go."

The men eyed each other and then reluctantly let go of Sano, who dusted himself off, growled one last time at his attackers, and then swept Kenshin up in a bear hug.

"Good t'see ya, Kenshin," he said. "How ya been?"

"Sano – do you mind?" His feet were dangling a few inches above the ground.

"Oh, sorry." Sano set him back down and Kenshin pulled his clothes straight again, all too aware of his retainers' startled stares. "Guess you're important now, huh? Probably shouldn't be doin' that."

"So it would seem…" Kenshin murmured. "Weren't you in China?"

"Yeah, well, I got a little sidetracked and what with one thing and another I had to catch the first ship outta Shanghai. Which was headed here, and since I was in the neighborhood and all…"

"Ah." He finished getting his clothes in some kind of order, grinning helplessly. A man of his standing shouldn't show this much emotion in public, but – dammit, he'd missed Sano. "It's good to see you again, at any rate. How long are you staying?"

"Dunno yet." There was a canny gleam in Sano's eyes. "What's this I hear about you getting married again?"

"Oh. Yes. Well – ah, one did not precisely have a choice in the matter…" Kenshin ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "The lady is the daughter of the late Lord Kamiya, whose province one has been given dominion over."

"…I _see_." Sano exhaled hard and ran a hand through his hair. "Goddammit, Kenshin, y'gotta stop lettin' him do this shit t'you."

"One could hardly refuse – "

Sano snorted. "Don't gimme that bullshit," he said, crossing his arms. "Y'damn well could've, and you know it. You're too fuckin' nice, you know that? I mean, you're a great guy an' all, but you gotta stand up for yourself."

"Sano." Kenshin's voice was harsher than he'd intended it, but his men's eyes were heavy on him. It was a public street, and although Sano hadn't named names he would start soon; it didn't do to criticize the shōgun in his own castle. "Not here, please. Come inside and we can have this argument again as many times as you like, although you should know by now that it won't change anything."

"Yeah, yeah." Sano waved his hand dismissively. "She pretty, at least?"

" _Sano!_ "

Sano chuckled as he followed Kenshin inside, whistling as they crossed the threshold and he got a good look at the place.

"Fancy digs."

"There's a castle, too," Kenshin said, not without irony, and waved one of the maids over. "Although one can't understand why _anyone_ would need so much space… excuse me," he said to the girl. She was one of the younger maids, and shook slightly under his gaze. "Where is the Lady Kaoru?"

"S-she's gone out, my lord." The maid folded her hands and bowed. "The Lady Kame called upon her while my lord was in council and invited her to the theatre."

"Ah – Lord Tokugawa's daughter?" The maid nodded. "Well, that's fine, then," he said, somewhat at a loss. "And her sisters?"

"Having their lessons, my lord." She glanced shyly up at Sano, then looked away. Sano had a strange look on his face, something between amusement and exasperation.

"Maids an' _everything_ ," he said, shaking his head ruefully. "Man, you really did get all puffed up while I was away."

"One hardly intended to," Kenshin protested weakly, feeling rather judged. Sano had always made his feelings on the upper class very clear; he'd thought that Kenshin's humble origins and Lord Tokugawa's deception were a fine joke when he'd first learned of it. Now that it was steadily becoming more serious, well… he had no idea what Sano would think.

"Sure y'didn't," Sano agreed in a cheerful tone, slinging his arm over Kenshin's shoulders. "Hey, missy," he said to the maid. "Bring us some sake, okay? This idiot and I have some catching up to do."

"Um – y-yes, sir," she said, bowing again, and hurried away.

They settled in one of the lesser room off of the courtyard, overlooking a small rock garden. The outer doors of the house were thrown open to let in the fresh summer air, and Kenshin could dimly hear the little ones' voices from the other side of the house, high-pitched and sing-songy with recitation. Sano, uncharacteristically tactful, waited for the sake to arrive before he propped his chin in his elbows and his elbows on his crossed legs and stared at Kenshin.

"So. Is it the same as last time?" He didn't need to say what he was referring to: there was only one _last time_ that could be relevant.

"…in some ways," Kenshin said, pouring Sano a cup.

"You think this one's tryin't'kill you, too?" Sano raised an eyebrow, daring Kenshin to contradict him.

Kenshin closed his eyes for a moment as the old wound contracted in his chest. He wouldn't blame her if she was: if not for him, there was every chance that Lord Tokugawa would have lost, that her family would still rule their province. If he hadn't pledged his sword, all the years and rivers of blood ago…

She'd hated and feared him, at first. Now she no longer feared him, but – there was still anger in her and probably would be for the rest of her life. Anger at the shōgun; anger at him, because the shōgun was too remote a target. Even if she did come to accept her situation, she would never find joy in sharing her life with him.

"No," he said quietly.

Sano made a contemplative noise in the back of his throat. "You in love with her yet?"

Kenshin stopped pouring and set the flask carefully down, hands shaking a little. She'd reached out with her pure, clean skin and swiped the blood from his, and he'd yearned towards her like some low crawling thing sighing for the sun. Her touch had been gentle, easy. Fearless.

He swallowed and looked up at Sano – his first, oldest, _only_ friend. Sano gave him a very old look and got to his feet.

"Right," he said, clapping his hands together in an _away-with-this_ sort of movement. "Change of plans. We're going out tonight."

"Ah, Sano," he objected, suddenly very worried, "Remember last time? One is far too recognizable…"

"No worries, I've got a fix for that."

"Do you?" Now he was more than worried. "And what exactly is that plan, may one ask?"

Sano just grinned. "You'll _love_ it."

~*~

"From discord," the old woman chanted, sweeping her arm out in a slow arc, "salvation may yet spring."

"For what is called evil – " the priest's attendant responded, spreading his hands outwards in a gesture of recognition and welcome.

"Is also good," she finished, crossing her hands over her walking-stick and bowing her head. She was hunched, her movements slow with age and jerking with madness but laced with exquisite dignity nonetheless.

"And passionate attachments to the world – " the priest countered, joining his attendant in acknowledging her wisdom

"Are also our deliverance." She tilted her head. The actor's mask shifted in the light, changing for a moment from contemplation to deep grief; then the moment passed.

"For salvation cannot be planted like a tree," the actors sang together, stilling into their final positions, "and the heart's mirror hangs in a void."

"Nothing is real!" the chorus sang out. "Man and Buddha are no different.  
By his sacred word  
he has vowed to save  
both the ignorant and the sage.  
Even a sinful act may lead to salvation."

Kaoru blinked back tears as the music pierced through her, resonating in the center of her being. Lady Kame was as enraptured as she was, staring at the stage with shining eyes. Her visit and invitation had come as a surprise: although Kaoru was the wife of one of Lord Tokugawa's most trusted retainers, she had hardly expected one of the shōgun's daughters to try and strike up an acquaintance.

Onstage, the old woman had revealed herself as Ono no Komachi, once the greatest poet of her age, now an ancient, half-mad wreck, possessed by the spirit of a lover she had scorned. The lover's spirit had taken over her body and was singing his story: how he had adored her, and how she had challenged him to come a hundred nights and leave his mark on her door. If he did this, Komachi had claimed, laughing, then she would accept him.

"I never saw her," the actor keened, the spirit's masculine tone contrasting eerily with the female mask, "yet still I came! Faithful as a cock announcing the dawn each day, I carved my mark outside her door. I was to come a hundred times; I lacked but one more ride…"

The actor cried out and collapsed, enacting the lover's death from the cold. The drums beat relentlessly as the flute's voice soared to the heaven.

Then, when the music was at its fullest, it stopped.

Silence.

The priest and his attendant stared at the broken figure heaped at their feet.

The chorus began again, slowly, and the old woman – the ruins of Komachi, the great beauty – climbed slowly to her feet.

"…was it my lover's spirit that possessed me?" she sang, wonderingly. "Was it his anger that shattered my wits?  
Then let me pray for salvation!  
I will pile stones in prayer;  
I will offer up to Buddha  
the very flowers of my heart  
that I might be redeemed.  
Let me walk the righteous path!  
Let me walk the path of truth!"

The play ended in a wild flurry of drumbeats. The actors receded from the stage one at a time, accompanied by the audience's ritual applause. Lady Kame sighed deeply.

"Ah! Wasn't that exquisite, Lady Kaoru? It was such a privilege to experience!"

"It was," Kaoru said. "I'm honored beyond words that you shared it with me. Thank you." She meant it, too. Whatever agendas might be at play – and Kaoru was certain that there were some – she had been given an extraordinary gift. She took a deep breath, hollow with beauty and a heavy, sweet melancholy that seemed to sink into her very bones.

Lady Kame wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, smiling.

"Oh, I can't wait for the next play," she said happily. "It's another story of Komachi, you know: her last days at Sekidera."

"Really?" Kaoru smoothed her fan nervously. "I've heard of it: isn't it the greatest of all plays?"

"It is. Won't it be lovely to see it performed? It's done so rarely…" She gestured to one of her ladies-in-waiting. The woman hurried from where she had been sitting quietly against the cloth walls erected around the stage for the performance. The stage was outdoors, as tradition dictated, with the audience seated on cushions arranged on the grass. It was late, and the bright sky was beginning to bruise towards the night.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Would you please bring some dinner boxes for myself and Lady Kaoru?" Lady Kame glanced over at Kaoru as though asking permission; Kaoru nodded. The lady-in-waiting bobbed a respectful bow and hastened over to where the theatre was selling boxed meals. She wasn't the only attendant there, but the lady she served was highly ranked enough that many of them fell back to let her go ahead.

Lady Kame sighed again.

"It's so refreshing to get out the castle," she said dreamily. "I do hope you're enjoying yourself, Lady Kaoru. I know how difficult the transition can be to married life – and I don't believe you've had the chance yet to meet anyone here in Edo?"

"I'm afraid not," Kaoru said politely. The beauty of the moment had put it from her mind: now the ever-present grief came seeping back in, guilt dogging at its heels. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment…?

"It's very kind of you to be so concerned," Kaoru said politely, waiting for the catch.

"I know we've only just met…" Lady Kame looked away, shy, and blushed a little. "But I do hope that we can be friends. Your husband is a dear friend of my father, you know."

"Is that so?" Kaoru sucked in a breath as subtly as she could.

They had returned to Edo yesterday, only a week after the attack. Lord Himura had been able to travel within two days, but had insisted on staying until he had some use of the arm again. It wasn't his sword-arm that had been wounded, but, he'd explained, he didn't want to take any chances with her and her sisters' safety. Spending a few more days recuperating would also give his men a chance to scour the area for any more bandits.

"One does apologize for the delay," he'd said, wincing as the doctor poked at his wound. "It's not too much trouble, is it?"

"No," she'd murmured, and handed him a fresh-poured cup of tea. He'd drunk from it without a moment's hesitation and she'd seen, suddenly, what could have been: his cold body washed and dressed for burial, those bright, strange eyes closed forever. If she'd made a different choice.

Had she made the right one?

She'd told Tae and Shirojo that she wouldn't consider the issue again until she could say for certain whether or not her husband was her enemy. She'd meant it then and she meant it now. Because – because of the way he'd leaned into her touch. Because of how his eyes lit when he saw her, and how carefully he held himself away when she could _see_ his hunger.

Because despite what she'd seen and what she knew – despite the bodies like cut grass in the wind and the blood soaking the dry earth – she couldn't believe that anyone could look at her the way he did and be her enemy.

"Oh yes!" Lady Kame had kept chattering, oblivious to Kaoru's brooding. She was a properly fluttery lady of the court: a charming adornment for her husband, bright and pleasing as a butterfly. "I know there are _such_ rumours about him, but we've had occasion to meet, you know, and he's really not as dreadful as the stories say. Although," and here her voice dropped conspiratorially, "he is _awfully_ serious. Is he so dour in private, too?"

Kaoru was so lost in thought that she nearly answered, despite the question's rudeness. Lady Kame saved her by giggling and pressing her fingers over her mouth, eye glowing with good humor.

"Do forgive me," she laughed in apology. "That was dreadfully rude!"

Kaoru forced a giggle, accepting Lady Kame's contrition.

"Serious? Well, I suppose…" The lady-in-waiting returned with two dinner boxes. The conversation paused briefly as they opened their meals and took the first few bites. "He's very polite."

"Anyway," Lady Kame continued blithely. "I'm sure he's a wonderful husband. He's not bad-looking, even with that hair – and even the stories admit that he's _never_ been cruel to a woman or a child, you know."

"What about his first wife?" Kaoru asked carefully, examining her food. Lady Kame's agenda was finally surfacing: it only made sense, she supposed, that the shōgun would take an interest in the success of her marriage, given its political significance. Why not send his daughter to probe the new bride's feelings?

"Oh, her?" Lady Kame shrugged dismissively. "Well, she _was_ a traitor."

Someone barked out a laugh behind them, harsh and derisive. Kaoru glanced over her shoulder to see a tall woman throwing back her head and laughing, holding her hand delicately to her mouth. Her eyes were fixed on Kaoru like the point of a blade.

"My my, Lady Kame. How sweet to see that you've remained so untouched by worldly concerns, even after your marriage."

"Lady Takani," Lady Kame said coolly, turning to face the woman but refusing to meet her eyes. "How pleasant – and rare – to see you enjoying such a refined occasion."

The lady laughed again, brushing off the subtle insult. "I'm so glad that we could have this chance meeting," she continued, flicking open her fan with an acidic smirk. "Is your lovely companion, perchance, the esteemable Lady Himura?"

"I am," Kaoru said evenly. "Forgive me, but I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Lady Kaoru, allow me to introduce you to the Lady Megumi Takani, who once served as my companion," Lady Kame said, grudgingly. Kaoru studied the two women, curious despite herself: Lady Kame clearly wanted to cut the other woman dead, yet something required her to treat Lady Takani with a minimum of courtesy. Lady Takani, on the other hand, seemed almost to revel in her onetime friend's discomfort.

"It's a pleasure," Kaoru said, bowing. Lady Takani returned the bow, politely enough.

"I had hoped we might meet," she said conversationally. "I'm well-acquainted with your husband."

"Oh?" She hadn't thought he was the type to keep a mistress, but she was hard-pressed to think of any other reason they would know each other. Noble ladies were rarely friends with men they weren't related to, and Lord Himura had no family. "In that case, I can hardly imagine why we haven't met."

"I've been attending to other business," she said smoothly. The corner of her mouth turned up in a wry grin as Lady Kame snorted cynically, as though she was inviting Kaoru to share in a joke. "I heard that dear Sir Ken was injured recently?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Lady Takani certainly referred to him intimately. But a mistress wouldn't normally dare approach their client's wife in public, and certainly not in a setting such as this. Unless that was the entire point. "My lord husband was wounded during a bandit attack as we returned to Edo."

"A rifle, I believe it was?" Lady Takani was still eyeing her slyly, but the mocking glint had faded from her eye. There was concern there, instead: very real, and very sincere.

Kaoru nodded. Lady Takani nodded, as though confirming something to herself.

"Has he let a doctor see it since then?" she asked sharply. "He's a dreadful patient; he'll forget that he's injured and work himself half to death if you don't keep an eye on him."

Kaoru fought the scowl tugging at her lips as irritation surged through her. Lady Takani was clearly bent on establishing herself as an intimate of Lord Himura. Which was fine; it wasn't as if Kaoru wanted what little claim she had on him. She had no particular desire to play Aoi to anyone's Rokujo.

Yet… Lady Takani's eyes said something other than what her words implied. Her feelings for Lord Himura ran deep: this wasn't simply a jealous mistress bullying their lover's new wife out of wounded pride. And there was a longing in her face that belied her insinuations of intimacy.

"Lady Takani," Kaoru said, putting as much sweetness as she could into her voice. "Do forgive my rudeness, but I find I must ask – what, precisely, is your relationship to my lord husband?"

Lady Takani looked away, snapping her fan shut. The question hung between them for a long moment as the shadows stretched on towards evening. A few stagehands came out to light the torches; the final play would begin soon.

"Lord Himura saved my life," Lady Takani said finally. Every last trace of sly mockery was gone from her voice. "And I am eternally grateful to him."

She met Kaoru's eyes, popping her fan open again, and the mischievous light was back in her eyes. "However, this is _hardly_ the place to speak of such _unpleasant_ things. Might I call on you sometime, to discuss the matter further?"

Kaoru's first instinct was to say no: she didn't like this woman, with her fox-eyes and her arrogant brow. She didn't want to subject herself to some kind of _audition_ for the right to the love of a man whom she did not want. A man she had tried to kill; a man she had spared only because of her own weakness. Because try though she might, she could not see him as her enemy.

"How kind of you to offer," she said, not quite knowing why. "Do feel free to call whenever you have the time."

~*~

"I dunno, Sano," Kenshin muttered, watching the sake in his cup swirl – or possibly that was the room – no, he couldn't be _that_ drunk. The lanterns were burning a bit brighter than usual, that was all. Must be some new kind. He should ask the proprietor where he got them.

But he was definitely a _little_ drunk, because he was no longer upset that Sano had dragged him to a brothel. After dying his hair. He _liked_ his hair. It was good hair. It had kept his head warm faithfully for years. It didn't deserve the dye job that Sano had inflicted on it.

"Poor hair…" he said vaguely, and gulped down another cup of sake. Mind, it had done the trick. No one had recognized him so far, which meant that he was being treated as any other customer and not a massacre waiting to happen. Which was nice.

"Wazzat?" Sano slurred. Now, Sano was _definitely_ drunk. And covered in women. One in each arm, pouring him sake, and a third draped over his shoulders and whispering something, probably something filthy, in his ear.

"I dun _no_ ," Kenshin said again, a bit louder. "About your idea. That I do not."

"Look," Sano said, after a brief pause to murmur back in the general direction of the woman who had been whispering in and was now licking his ear, "'S ver'simple. Y'just gotta say watcha feel, y'know?"

He slammed back his own cup of sake and smacked his lips, letting out a little _ahh_ of satisfaction.

"I mean," he elaborated, waving his cup around to illustrate his point. "'smaybe she's got some, some _stuff_ goin' on right now. But, like, y'haven't actually done anythin' _bad_ t'her, right?"

"Well, aside from defeating her family and takin' all their stuff, but yesh, 's minor issue, really." Ah, sarcasm, his final refuge in troubled times. He eyed the sake flask contemplatively; Sano nudged on of the women plastered against him and she poured Kenshin another cup, smiling enticingly. He smiled back at her, not remotely tempted. If she's had any idea who he really was, she would be shaking as she served him.

"'Xactly!" Sano grinned at him. "Spoils 'f war an alla that crap. 'Point is – th' point ish – y'r a good guy, yanno? 'N if I coulda figgered it out in alla like three days then she's probably gotta know y'r a good guy too, yanno?"

"'S different, it is," Kenshin said, sipping this time. The room was feeling a little slanted, and he didn't want to be _that_ drunk. Couldn't afford to be, really: too much power plus a loss of control equaled a terrible time for all, or so his master had drilled into him. He'd never tested that teaching. For a change. "Y'weren't married t'me, thatchayawerenn't."

"…'strue. 'S very true." Sano nodded sagely. "That'd be weird."

Kenshin drew up his knee and rested his forehead against it. "That makes it different, y'know? 'S different," he muttered, searching for the words and not finding them. "…different."

"My lord?" One of the women detached herself from Sano's side and came to his, ducking her head to meet his eyes. "My lord, your heart is troubled. Won't you tell Kiku-chan about it?"

He furrowed his brow, perplexed, and squinted at her. "Who's Kiku-chan, that is?"

She giggled. "I am, my lord. If I understand the situation, my lord is recently married?"

"My lord, my lord," he grumbled. "Who named me that? Don' like it, tha'I don't."

"Then what would you like me to call you?" Her question was perfectly innocent, flirtatious even; she didn't mean for it to hurt. She didn't know that he would see another woman asking the same thing, so many years ago, when he had been too young to know better.

"…nevermind," he said, and closed his eyes. Ah. The melancholic stage. It _had_ been a while since he'd gone seriously drinking. "'S nothing."

"Hey. Hey hey hey. Hey, Kenshin!" Sano lurched forward, dislodging the women still hanging on him, and propped his elbows on the table. "There's'a idea! She's a woman! Y'r a woman!" he declared to Kiku, excitedly. She laughed.

"Why yes, I am, Sir Sano. Do you require proof?" she flirted, drawing her fingers seductively across her collarbone.

"Mebbe later, doll. But Kenshin, Kenshin, y'oughta ask her!"

"Ask her what?" Kenshin said blearily, missing the weight of his sword at his side. Like most establishments of ill-repute, the Lotus Flower required patrons to check their weapons at the door. It felt strange not to have his blade with him. Empty.

"'Bout'cher li'l missy, here."

"Oh." He looked up, focusing on Kiku. "What d'you think?"

"About your wife?" She tilted her head coquettishly, exposing the long, elegant line of her neck. It was – he observed, objectively – a very beautiful neck. Certainly – again, objectively – more perfect than Lady Kaoru's: paler and far more slender. But it was not – and this was very important – Lady Kaoru's neck. He'd never seen in flush with pleasure and sweat from the exertion and thrill of training, or draped with a careless strand of blue-black hair. Therefore, while it was a very beautiful neck, he had no interest in it.

He explained this to her, carefully, and Kiku trilled out a laugh. "What a lucky woman your wife is," she said, warmth in her voice. "She must be grateful to have such a devoted husband."

"No." He looked at his half-empty cup, glum, and covered it with his fingers when Kiku went to top it off. "'S not – she didn't wanna marry me t'begin with, anyway. Never even met her before the wedding…"

"Well, it can be very trying, for a young girl. The wedding night, in particular…" she said delicately. " _Do_ you want my advice?"

What the hell. It wasn't as if he could make things worse just by _listening_.

"…yes, please," he said meekly.

"Be gentle," she counseled, amusement glinting in her eyes. "Young girls are so easily frightened. If you are as… passionate… as you sounded just now, the poor child likely doesn't know what to do – with you or with herself. Ease her into things: show her that she has nothing to fear from the marriage bed."

He tilted his head. It _sounded_ like good advice. But something was jumping up and down in the back of his mind, trying to get his attention. A niggling feeling that the woman's recommendation, while very sound, was based on an inaccurate premise.

Oh.

"We don't have one," he grinned, proud of himself for figuring it out. Kiku blinked, politely.

"Marriage bed," he explained. "Don' have one, we don't. Didn't wanna – didn' wanna hurt her, y'know. So… 's problem, I mean, problem's that – I really, really like her, I _do_ ," he said earnestly, dimly aware of a growing consternation in Kiku's eyes. "An' I wan' her to like me, y'know, but 's like… 's complicated, y'know?"

"I… see," she said. There was _something_ going on in her expression, something disconcertingly honest. "You desired to wait until she," and Kiku paused here, as though the words felt strange in her mouth. "Until she accepted you."

Kenshin nodded. "Don' wanna scare her," he explained again. "Or hurt her. Not _ever._ 'S important," he said, enunciating as best he could with a wine-thick tongue. "Can't hurt people. You can't. 'S bad. Shouldn't be cruel, you should _not_."

"Does she know your feelings in the matter?" Kiku rallied like the expert that she was, but something he'd said had clearly shaken her. He had trouble imagining what, though that might just be the booze.

"I, uh…" _Had_ he ever talked to her about it? He couldn't quite recall; all his memories were wreathed in a liquor-fog. "…huh. Dunno. But – mean, even 'f I _did_ , y'know, why'd she ever believe me? 'N what if it's – what if 's not enough? So I can't," he finished, satisfied with his explanation. "Gotta just put up with it, tha' I do."

"…I see. How – noble." And it was probably his imagination or the lighting or the liquor, but he almost imagined that the woman was smiling fondly.

"'S not noble, he muttered vaguely. "'S not noble if y'r s' _pposed_ to do it…"

"Y'r a ' _fraidy-cat_ ," Sano chimed in, briefly distracted from his investigation of one of his women's cleavage. "'S not complicated a'tall. Don' wanna stuff from last time t'happen again s'y'r not even gonna takea chance…"

"So what?" Kenshin countered, feeling a sulk coming on. Sano didn't understand; Sano didn't _want_ to understand. He hadn't been there, after all. He'd only seen the aftermath, a year later, when Kenshin had finally started to carry the weight of it with some grace… "I ain't gotta takeachance if I don' wanna."

"Thass'true," Sano said, wrapping his arm around his companion's waist. "Y'can always be miserable."

" _Thank_ you," he said, attempting to draw himself up with some modicum of dignity. His spine didn't want to co-operate; his head felt vaguely detached from the rest of him. Yep. He was drunk.

"But…" Sano pulled away from the women surrounding him and fixed Kenshin with an unnaturally sober gaze. "D'y'think that's what _she_ would want?"

And Kenshin, knowing who Sano meant – remembering, suddenly, her deep black eyes and the subtle smile that had meant so much and in the end, so little – found that he had nothing to say.

~*~

It was raining. About time, too; the season had been delayed by nearly a week, and the flowers couldn't bloom without it. The sky had opened up and was dumping down sheets of rain that gusted sideways in the wind, and Kenshin noted with a glum lack of surprise that the dye Sano had put in his hair was starting to run and stain his clothing.

Technically, he shouldn't have been walking home alone. However, he and Sano had left his manor by going over the back wall for the very specific purpose of evading Kenshin's guard detail. They'd left a note. There would probably be trouble over that in the morning.

He would worry about that later. He had enough to fret over for right now. He was still a bit drunk, for one thing; although nothing was quite as sobering as a cold shower of water and the gods _had_ been kind enough to deliver one for his walk home, he was having to step very carefully. Otherwise the ground would leap up and try to hit him in the face. Tricky thing, the ground. Attacking when you least expect it. Not that it ever _would_ hit him, of course, he was quite tricky himself and rather fast on his feet, but still. Better to trod deliberately and make sure the ground stayed where it was supposed to be.

The other problem he had was that while he was sober enough to understand that trying to talk to Lady Kaoru _now_ would be a very, very bad idea, he was also drunk enough not to care, and also fairly certain that he'd lose the nerve in the morning if he didn't. So he was definitely going to talk to her, unless he sobered up at some point between now and getting back home, and that was – you know what, he wasn't going to think about any of the possible outcomes to a very stupid thing that he was going to do despite knowing better. That was future-Kenshin's problem. Present-Kenshin had enough to worry about, what with the ground and all. The tricky, tricky ground.

He was home before he knew it, soaked to the bone and blinking rainwater and hairdye out of his eyes. It was easy to sneak back over the wall, although the ground did manage to sucker-punch him on the way down.

"Well struck," he muttered to it, clambering back on his feet. "'S lotta potential, there. Good job."

Then he lurched his way inside, shedding water in his wake.

Kaoru was still awake. He was aware, dimly, that that was a good thing. Probably would be a bad ending if she was asleep. He was still going to do this, wasn't he? Yep. All present and correct; march on, my bold companions, into the arms of the abyss!

Kenshin giggled, and couldn't deny that it was, in fact, a giggle. Usually he tried to tell himself that it was a snicker. After all, it was important to have _some_ dignity.

He tasted blood and realized that he had bitten his lip. There were too many ways this could go badly, more than he could handle thinking about it, and it would be so very, very easy to just turn around and sleep it off and come at the problem in the morning, when he was sober. When he would think it through in the harsh light of day instead of the sake-soft darkness and decide not to after all.

_Do you think that's what she'd want?_

Goddamn Sano and his unexpected insights. And goddamn himself for a fool, because as much as he fully intended to blame it on the liquor until the day he died, he knew perfectly well that this was his own decision.

Kenshin steeled himself and knocked.

~*~

Kaoru sighed as she let down her hair, running her fingers through to catch any stray ornamentation. Then she cracked her back and picked up her brush, watching herself in her mother's mirror – her mirror, now, ever since mother's death, but she still didn't think of it as hers.

The brush pulled lightly at her hair. One hundred strokes every night, her mother had taught her. For beauty and patience. Of which Kaoru had plenty of the former, her mother had murmured, laughing, but all too little of the latter.

She would need patience, now.

The rain had begun right after the performance had concluded, just after she and Lady Kame had gotten into their palanquin. Lady Kame had shrieked in surprise at the first crack of thunder, subsiding rapidly into giggles at her own silliness and relief that they had just barely escaped a dousing. She'd spent the rest of the ride prattling, except for the very end, when she'd grown suddenly grave and advised Kaoru to reconsider allowing Lady Takani to call on her.

"You're new to Edo, so you might not know," she'd said, delicately, as a lady should when speaking of such matters. "But she's divorced – there was something of a scandal – anyway, she's hardly the _right sort_ , you know."

"Thank you," Kaoru had said politely, holding to her smile like a shield. "I'm so grateful to have you guiding me."

Lord Himura had been gone when she got home – out drinking with an old friend who'd visited unexpectedly. It was a startlingly human reason; she hadn't been sure what to think of it. Neither had anyone else, according to Shirojo.

"But they _acted_ like old pals, you know," he'd said, shrugging. Then he'd grinned, a little ruefully. "Honestly, after the bandits, no one really felt like getting upset if he wanted to sneak out and pretend to be a common samurai. Most of his personal guards are actually kinda relieved that he doesn't seriously expect them to keep him safe. Not that they'd admit it, of course."

It had been easier to talk to Shirojo than Tae since the day of the bandit attack. Tae didn't approve of the choice that Kaoru had made, which was bad enough, but she also understood Kaoru's reasons. She just didn't approve of those, either.

"You gave him a chance," she'd said flatly, when Kaoru had tried to mend that bridge. "You were willing to believe that the stories weren't true. So was I, for a little while. But then – I saw what he did as clearly as you." She'd refused to meet Kaoru's eyes, which meant that she was truly angry. "There's no honor in unleashing _that_ on the battlefield; no one would ever stand a chance. What kind of man would wield such a merciless sword? So what if he's kind to you? Even a demon may show kindness to its mate – does that make it any less a demon?"

And that had been that. Tae was willing to hold her peace, but she would not change her mind.

Shirojo, though, didn't seem to care. He never had; he'd been around since she was a girl, one of the ever-present shadows in black and blue that came and went from her father's house on business she hadn't been old enough yet to know about. Easy-going, friendly, always willing to stop and entertain a bored child. Misao had whispered to her, once, that he was actually one of the most accomplished assassins in his clan. When Kaoru had responded that he certainly didn't _act_ like it, Misao had only grinned. That, she'd said cheerily, was precisely the point.

So it was mostly Shirojo whom she consulted with, now. Tae was always present, of course, but she rarely had anything to say.

Fifty strokes in. Her hair always frizzed a little during the rainy season, just as her mother's had; she'd found a bottle of Tae's special hair oil in her bath things that morning. Not quite an apology, but close enough. An affirmation: that she still cared, even though she believed Kaoru was making a mistake. That she wasn't giving up.

Her eyes watered for a moment before she blinked them clear again. It wasn't that she couldn't handle the politics. It was just that… it had all seemed so far away, until today. It was one thing to know the consequences of your choices, and another thing to _understand_ them – to understand that every friendship must be guarded, now, every new acquaintance carefully assessed for their agendas. Not that her life would have been much different, had her father lived, except…

Except that she'd be married to a man of her own choosing, and her father would be alive to help her. She wouldn't be learning this alone, or entering the dance from such a weak position: daughter to a fallen house, half-captive bride sold for a handful of rice.

So it had mattered, that little bottle of hair oil, and what Tae had meant by it. _You are not alone_. Tae was there, even if she disagreed; her loyalty was nothing if not absolute. Shirojo might not be the most politically minded, but he had training and a network. She _wasn't_ alone. She had to remember that: there were people supporting her, and people relying on her. So – and her father's words echoed in her heart – she would succeed. She wasn't allowed to fail.

It didn't make things better, but it kept her from feeling worse.

One hundred strokes. She pushed her hair from her face and braided it swiftly, pulling the end over her shoulder. The night was cool, and she shivered a little in her thin summer robe.

There was a knock at her door.

"Honored wife?" Lord Himura called softly.

Kaoru froze, staring at herself in the mirror as her heart slammed against her ribs. Her fingers were still buried in her hair; she finished the braid automatically as she responded. The rain drummed down on the roof in a ceaseless chorus.

"Yes, honored husband?"

"…will you open the door?"

His voice sounded odd: quiet – he was always quiet – but strained somehow, as though it was an effort to speak clearly. She clutched her hand in her robe, breath coming rabbit-fast.

There was really only one reason that he would be coming to her door so late at night. He must have decided – it was to be _now_ – she wasn't ready for this. But she didn't have a choice. She couldn't refuse him. She couldn't stop him from taking what was his by right…

"Of course, honored husband," she said, voice only wavering a little. The air was thick, and very heavy, and it felt like climbing a mountain just to get to her feet. Outside a gust of wind slammed rain against the wall like shattering glass. Thunder roared. "Just a moment."

She tied her belt a little tighter. Futile. But what else could she do?

Slowly, she crossed her room and opened the door to let her husband in.

Lord Himura was standing in the hall, soaking wet but not quite drenched enough to mask the smell of sake and cheap perfume. So he _had_ been out in the rougher parts of town. The hallway was dark; she couldn't quite see him. He took a step out of the shadows and she forced herself to meet his eyes, the eyes that she knew would be alight with hunger…

"…what happened to your _hair?_ " she blurted out before she could stop herself. It looked _filthy_ – soaked and leaking black water everywhere, the red darkened almost to an ashy grey. There was a flash of lightning, and she saw he eyes widen guiltily, like a child caught stealing sweets.

"Oro?" He grabbed at one of his bangs and pulled it out in front of his face, eyes crossing with the effort of looking at it. "Ah. Um. Sano dyed it, he did, yes indeed. It was not a very good job, it was not, that is true."

He was over-enunciating. His turns of phrase were even stranger than they normally were. And he _reeked_ of alcohol.

"It was his plan," Lord Himura continued, his careful syllabic control beginning to degrade. "An' it worked, but it wasn't hardly any fair to my hair, that-it-was- _not_." Giving up on examining his bangs, he pulled the end of his ponytail over his shoulder and looked at that instead. Dye ran out of it and stained his fingertips.

"'S good hair. Keeps my head warm," he said mournfully, staring at his fingers. "Didn' deserve this…"

It was such an incongruous sight: the man she'd _seen_ slaughter a dozen men in an eyeblink, whom she _knew_ to be dangerous beyond all description, standing soaking wet in the darkened hallway with a bad dye job and _mourning his hair_ –

Kaoru snorted. Her lips started to curl up at the edges and she fought to keep them still, clasping her hands instinctively over her mouth. Despite her best efforts, her shoulders began to shake, laughter welling up inside her until it was impossible to completely muffle and she squeaked out a helpless giggle.

"Oro?" he said again, blinking. She choked back another laugh, biting hard on the inside of her cheek.

Then, quite suddenly, the very tips of his fingers were at her temple; his touch shot through her like lightning, like fire. She looked up, startled into silence – he'd _never_ touched her before – and saw him smiling. His eyes were hooded with pleasure as he drew a stray strand through his fingers, leaving warmth in his wake.

"…made you laugh," he murmured. Then his hand was gone and she was left staring, cold with the knowledge of what they were to one another. Of what he probably wanted.

Lord Himura cleared his throat.

"Came t'say something," he said, shifting. "'N important thing."

"…yes, honored husband?" Kaoru dropped her hands from her mouth to her sides, clenching her fingers lightly in her robe. She wanted to draw them up across her chest, to shield herself, but she resisted; it wouldn't do any good, and she refused to cower. Not to him. Not ever.

He glanced away, face reddened with alcohol and something more, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I…" he began to say, and she started a little at his casual tone. "I doneverwanna hurt you or make y'scared," he said, so hurried that it took her a moment to understand him. His flush deepened. "So – 'f I ever – if I do somethin' to – scare you, or it hurts you, or somethin' – y'gotta tell me. So I can fix it. Please."

Kaoru stared at him, uncertain. There was something desperate in his eyes – there always was, when he looked at her – but this went deeper than the hunger. This was almost fear. As if he had any reason to fear her, who lacked the courage to kill him even when given the perfect chance. Even when all honor and piety demanded it: for her father, for her fallen house.

"Please," he said again, and swayed towards her. She forced herself to be still, to not give ground. He came nearly too close and pause, breath hot against her skin. She swallowed, fear blooming in her despite herself, and braced for what she knew was coming: for the fire that would devour her whole and leave her ashes. The moment stretched out between them, taut with possibility, and her entire body – from the tips of her fingers to the tops of her feet – tingled with anticipation.

Then he took a step back, closing his eyes briefly as if in pain.

"Thas' all," he said, rubbing idly at his shoulder and looking away. The wounded one, she noted in a bit of a daze. Was that his kimono's dye running, or blood from a re-opened wound?

"Honored husband." She'd spoken without meaning to. He looked back at her.

"Your shoulder," she said, as something gave way inside her. "You should have a doctor look at it again. Just in case."

Her throat was swollen with things she had no words for: with the same feeling she'd had after they'd trained together, when he'd offered to help her find another sword. Of knowing that the world was one way, and wishing it could be another, because the other way might hurt but it was so much simpler –

 _I have no reason to kill him_ , she thought abruptly. _I never did_. Except for her own outraged honor, and that was supposed to be reason enough but it was so hard to feel that way when he was right in front of her, looking at her like she was something new, and precious.

"Oh." There was a strange note in his voice, almost sad. "Y'r right. Tomorrow, I guess. Yep. Um – "

He smiled a little.

"G'night, honored wife." His eyes were bright in the darkness, shimmering and strange, and she wasn't afraid. _She wasn't afraid._

"Good night, honored husband," she said softly.

He left. She went back into her room and lay down on her bed, and did not sleep.


	6. tangled roots perplex her ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: IMPORTANT SCHEDULING NOTES.
> 
> So, I'm in my third year of law school and coming up on exams; furthermore, I'm getting ready for the bar. With that in mind, there will be some changes to the update schedule.
> 
> The next update for Invictus will be the weekend of MAY 25th. The next update for Vaster Than Empires will be the weekend of JUNE 1ST.
> 
> After that, I will be going on hiatus for my bar exam prep period, and for the test itself. This hiatus will end the weekend of AUGUST 10th. At that point, regular updates for both stories will resume.
> 
> I apologize for the disruption and hope you will bear with me. I am not abandoning these stories; this is a planned hiatus with a specific end-date, and I am going on it because I need to prioritize my real life over my fanfiction. Thank you all for your patience during this time.

Lord Himura was gone by the time Kaoru woke, off on the shōgun's business, and she was grateful for that. Her head ached as though she was the one who'd been drinking; she hadn't slept until the sun was paling the sky and then she'd only dozed. She struggled into her purloined hakama and shuffled her way into the dojo anyway, yawning hugely.

It was a grey morning, cool and misty. The rainy season had finally come, it seemed, and soon the hydrangeas would be blooming. There were no flowers in Lord Himura's courtyard, only a rock garden and few ornamental pines. She wondered why he'd chosen the arrangement and then realized that he probably hadn't, that he'd probably simply accepted the manor as it was presented to him, and wondered why she was so certain of that.

Then she shook her head, brought the wooden sword down, and began.

The worst of her exhaustion had burned away under the sweat and strain of practice when Tae quietly announced her presence.

"My lady?"

Kaoru completed her swing. "Yes?"

"There is a visitor – the Lady Takani?"

"...so soon?" She walked to the door. "We only met yesterday…"

Tae only raised an eyebrow at her. She knew about the incident at the play, of course; Kaoru had told both her advisors about it. They'd agreed, after some discussion, not to pursue the relationship unless Lady Takani did. Association with a scandal could damage Kaoru's standing, which would affect her ability to maneuver and protect herself but she wanted – needed – information that it seemed the Lady Takani was able and willing to provide. So, if the lady came to call, Kaoru would accept her visit. One could hardly turn away a visitor, after all, not unless they had offered dire insult. It was only seeking Lady Takani out that could be read as her desiring friendship with a shameless woman, and therefore put her in danger.

At least, Kaoru and Shirojo had agreed. Tae had only shrugged and said that Kaoru was determined not to listen to her advice, so what was the point in giving it?

Kaoru sighed, remembering.

"I need to change," she said. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Please convey my apologies for the wait."

Tae bowed and left, and Kaoru went to douse herself with water and change.

Lady Takani was waiting in an outer room, kneeling with her eyes half-closed and her hands cupped loosely around a lacquered box. There was a pot of tea on a tray nearby, untouched.

"Lady Takani," Kaoru said as she entered and bowed. "How pleasant to see you so soon."

Lady Takani's eyes opened quickly, as though startled from thought, and she bowed in response.

"I do hope you'll forgive my forwardness," she said smoothly, "but it seemed appropriate that we speak sooner rather than later. Here." She placed the box carefully between them as Kaoru knelt across from here. "It's only a trifle, I'm afraid…"

"Oh, you're too kind," Kaoru said automatically. Lady Takani lifted the lid to reveal twelve sweets, elegantly crafted in the signs of the zodiac and arranged in the cycle of the years. "They're lovely. I'm honored; it's far too great a gift. Would you care for some tea?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Lady Takani said. Kaoru moved the gift politely aside – it would be rude to pay it further attention – and poured the tea. The other woman took her cup and cradled it in elegant fingers.

"So," she said finally. "I suppose Lady Kame's told you all about me."

"Not really." Apparently they were going to skip most of the courtesies. That was fine; they both knew why they were here, and Kaoru preferred honesty. "Only that there was a scandal. And that you're divorced."

Lady Takani nodded. "That was Sir Ken's influence," she said softly. "If not for him…" And then she laughed a little. "You know, I'm not really sure where to start. Forgive me, Lady Kaoru, but it's not a story I often share."

Kaoru considered her options, half a dozen responses racing through her mind, most of them harsh. There were other answers she could give, softer ones, if she'd wanted Lady Takani for a friend – if she'd liked her at _all_ – but she didn't want to be bosom companions. Lady Takani had approached her, Lady Takani was the one with some kind of message to pass on, so working up the nerve to speak was her own damn responsibility.

Yet Kaoru's voice was gentle when she asked: "Then why are you here?"

"Because Sir Ken is a good man," Lady Takani said, meeting Kaoru's gaze head-on. "And he deserves to be happy. I had thought, once, that perhaps…" She looked down and away. "Well, nevermind."

"A good man..." Kaoru turned the teacup in her hands, watching the liquid swirl. "You _do_ know what the stories say, don't you?"

Lady Takani snorted. "He's as human as you or I, believe me. He bleeds and weakens and breaks bones just like anyone else; he needs food and rest as much as any man – generally more, given how he pushes himself. He's no demon."

Kaoru tilted her head, examining Lady Takani. "Have you ever seen him fight?" she asked, too sweetly, and Lady Takani's eyes shaded into caution.

"No," she said.

"I have." Kaoru took a slow sip of her tea, letting the bitter liquid slide down her throat and wishing, suddenly, that it was something stronger. "The stories don't do it justice."

She remembered: flies buzzing over the dead men and lighting in the sticky rivulets of blood oozing from their wounds. Crawling across their faces, into their mouths and gathering in their open eyes. The flies and the smell, awful and charnel, sickly-sweet with a hint of voided bowels. One of the dead men had eaten just before the attack, and half-digested rice had spilled from his stomach where he fell.

Her hands tightened around her cup, bones creaking. The road had been turned into an abattoir in less time than it had taken her to gasp her shock at seeing Lord Himura truly _move_. And how he'd moved – terrible and sudden as the lightning, inexorable as the rushing waves.

She knew that Lady Takani was examining her, just as she knew that the hand not gripping her cup was shaking. Outside, a gentle patter of rain began to fall.

"You're afraid of him," Lady Takani said quietly.

"No," Kaoru said, and was surprised to find that it was true. "No," she said again, thinking of his eyes gleaming soft and yearning in the dark, of his mild voice fumbling for words. The surprise and awe in his face when he'd woken, injured, to find her kneeling at his side; the sincerity in his voice whenever he spoke to her. "Not of _him_ – "

She cut herself off, choking on the words. Honesty was one thing, but Lady Takani had no right to this, this _intimacy_ , not on less than an hour's acquaintance.

"Forgive me, Lady Takani," she said formally. "I've interrupted your story."

 _I'll show you mine_ , she thought, and let it show in her eyes, _but you have to show me yours, first_.

Lady Takani blinked for a moment, pulling back as if to refuse; then she smiled a small, bitter smile.

"Fair enough," she said, and Kaoru thought her voice was a little warmer than it had been. "The scandal, then."

And there _was_ warmth there, but a certain menace with it.

"When I was twelve," she began, running a finger along the lip of her cup, "I was betrothed to the son of my father's patron. It was a terribly advantageous match, and I was glad to have my future and my family's fortunes secured."

She took a sip, eyeing Kaoru over the rim. "What more can a woman hope for, after all? My family was elevated by our association with a far greater clan, and my children would bear a proud name. There is no greater happiness," she said deliberately, "than to be of service to one's house."

"Indeed," Kaoru murmured, not without irony.

"We married as soon as I was fourteen," she continued. "He was older than me, so there was no need to wait once I came of age. And for a time – I was happy, you know." Her eyes were grave. "I didn't love him, of course, and he didn't love me, but he was a dutiful husband and provided well for me. I looked forward to giving him his first son, to being a mother."

She closed her eyes for a moment, grief emerging in the lines of her face.

"My first pregnancy was not successful," she said, flatly. "Neither was my second – and that was when the difficulties began. My husband blamed me, you see." There was that quick smile again, twisted and bitter. "I must have been unfaithful, or plotting against him. I must be poisoning his children in the womb out of spite, or perhaps they were killing themselves in shame for their mother's profligate ways. Either way, it was my fault."

Lady Takani's face shifting again, become eerily expressionless as she spoke. As if she was reciting a story that had happened to someone else, long ago.

"His behavior changed. I was confined to my room, with female guards to watch me, and he would come to me nightly whether I willed it or not. As soon as the midwife found that I had conceived, I was restrained to prevent me from doing anything to harm the child."

Her throat worked. Kaoru put her cup down.

"Lady Takani…"

Lady Takani held up her hand. "You should hear it," she said, licking her lips, and her fingers were trembling as faintly as the surface of a pond. "All of it. You must understand what I mean, when I say that your husband saved my life. You must understand – the kind of man I know him to be."

 _I think I already do_ , she wanted to say, but it looked like it might kill Lady Takani to leave the story half-untold. So she kept her peace.

"This time, I bore a live child," she said, and her voice became very small. "A son – except." Another pause, a deep breath, and the air around her seemed to draw in. "He was – abnormal. Deformed. Otherwise healthy, but…"

She was far too terribly still, and Kaoru's heart ached for her, for the child she'd borne. It was a uniquely female nightmare: she'd only been a little girl when her mother had carried Ayame and Suzume but she remembered her fear, the endless trips to shrines and temples and careful observation of every small superstition, each minute change in her body. Her father, hovering worried and helpless, and how much more terrible must it have been to go through that after failing twice, with a husband who blamed you for it?

"Lady Takani, please, you don't need to – "

"I ran," Lady Takani said bluntly, talking over Kaoru as if she didn't hear. "I knew as soon as I saw the child that my husband would kill him – would kill me. So I took my child and I ran, away from him, back to my parent's house. They refused to help."

She looked down at her hand, eyes dark.

"I was dishonoring them, failing them. My unsuccessful marriage had brought shame to the family and made things – difficult between my father and his patron. They ordered me to return and repent for my bad behavior. After all," her knuckles were white as she clenched her hand in her gown, "he was my husband. I was his to dispose of. I had left with nothing but the clothes on my back, no dowry for the divorce temple, no way to support myself, and my husband would be looking for me to take vengeance for my treachery. I don't know what I would have done, then – died, probably – if Sir Ken hadn't – if he hadn't happened to be passing by when they were dragging me back to my husband."

"He stopped them," Kaoru said, without meaning to. She could see it, that was the odd thing: the frightened woman clutching her child to her breast as she fought against the hands pushing and pulling her towards the carriage and then suddenly _he_ would be there, standing between the struggle and the palanquin and asking mildly if anything was the matter.

Lady Takani looked up, and her face was indescribable: grief and remembered terror, relief and gratitude. The rain picked up, dancing along the gutters and dancing along the shoji.

"Yes," she said simply, voice trembling. "He stopped them. He listened to my story – he _believed_ me – he convinced my husband to divorce me and let me keep my child. He took me in and helped me start my own life. I was a stranger to him, and he saved me. If not for him, I would be – and my son – "

A pause, and a deep breath, and the passionate edge receded. When she spoke her voice was serene again, but the mirror-surface of her sly eyes had cracked to show a naked, unrequited longing.

"So you see, Lady Himura," she said. "I owe Sir Ken a debt that I can never repay. And he has never asked me to. But the obligation remains: so here I am."

Lady Takani loved him; Kaoru could hear it plainly in the words that she didn't say. She loved him, and he didn't return her feelings, never had, never _would_ and she knew it – and that was why there was no jealousy in her, only poignant resignation.

 _Sir Ken is a good man_ , she'd said, eyes aglow with conviction, _and he deserves to be happy_.

The strange thing, though, was that nothing about the story Lady Takani had told really surprised her.

"What do you want, Lady Takani?" Kaoru asked, her voice still gentle.

"What do I want – ?" Lady Takani almost laughed, a small dry thing more exhale than sound. "To meet you, I suppose. To tell you that the stories about him – they're _not_ true – that he is a good man, and he's only human. I know what you must fear," she said quickly. "I've _lived_ it – and you must understand. He is not that kind of man. He would die, first."

"I know he's not." Kaoru spoke without quite meaning to, again, and didn't realize what she'd said until Lady Takani drew herself up like a rattlesnake about to strike, the hurt in her eyes echoing in the line of her back.

"Then you let me go on – why? For the _gossip_ – ?"

"No!" Kaoru said quickly. "No, it's not that, I – Lady Takani, please, sit down. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. That's not it."

Lady Takani subsided slowly, eyeing her with obvious distaste, and Kaoru shook her head to try and jostle the right words into place.

"I'm not afraid of him," Kaoru said, knowing in her bones that it was true. "Not anymore. I'm afraid – "

 _What am I afraid of?_ Because there _was_ fear: even with her absolute certainty that he would never hurt her, even with the strange shivering _something_ she felt when she saw the hunger in his eyes, there was still _fear_. Just not of him. And yet…

She closed her eyes and breathed deep, drawing air and life into her center. Then she found the words.

"I'm not afraid of him," she said again. "I'm afraid of _what he is._ "

There was a long pause.

"You realize," Lady Takani said, dry as old bones, "that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever."

"Well, excuse me!" Kaoru snapped. "You say that the stories aren't true – but I've seen him fight, Lady Takani, and he is _everything_ the stories say and then some! And at the same time – at the same time, he's the man who rescued you, who's – who's been nothing but kind to me, asked nothing of me at all despite having every right – and _how_ can he be both those people and still be _sane?_ One of them _must_ be a lie!"

The words came out without her permission, without pause for breath or consideration for propriety. There was a crack of thunder outside; the wind threw rain against the roof, rattling the shingles.

"And it can't be the demon, because _I've seen him fight,_ Lady Takani, and he is _inhuman_. But the other self – that kindness – that's real, too. How can they both be real? How can he be two completely opposite things? How – "

And then, at last, the words ran dry; her throat closed and she sank into herself, hands clenched tight into trembling fists. The silk of her kimono was cool between her fingers and she felt Lady Takani's eyes on her for a long time, regarding her with something that might have been awe, or pity, or both.

"Is he truly that terrible, when he draws his sword?" she asked, finally.

"…yes," she choked out. "Yes. He – it was like a bloody rain," she whispered. "And it happened too quickly to see. They didn't stand a chance."

"Bandits, weren't they?" Her voice was light, calm as if she was inquiring after Kaoru's health.

Kaoru nodded.

"I'm surprised he bothered," Lady Takani said, picking up her cup. "Couldn't the guards have dealt with it?"

"They attacked in two groups," she said vaguely, the steel clash of swords and cries of dying men echoing in her mind. "One went after the packhorses, and the other went for the palanquin – the one I was in, with my sisters. There weren't enough guards there – he ordered mine to help the others and the bearers to run, and then he – "

And then he'd drawn his sword, and made a bloody rain fall. As if the sky had opened up in a brief summer shower, but instead of clear water it was red and hot and stinking.

Her hands were shaking. She looked at them, dimly surprised.

"I see." Lady Takani took a sip of her tea. "He was helping his men."

 _Don't stray from this spot_ , he'd said, eyes burning with pale fire. Then later, struggling to keep himself upright with his bloody wound soaking through the bandages, he'd asked her forgiveness. For failing her. For endangering her and her sisters. And promised that it would never happened again…

 _I don't ever want to hurt or scare you,_ he'd slurred out to her, just last night. _So you have to tell me. If I hurt or scare you. So I can fix it._

Almost begging her.

 _Please_.

"No," and her throat was raw with unshed tears. "He was protecting me." And that, _that_ was why she hadn't been able to kill him, she knew with a sudden and terrible clarity: because for all she'd seen, for all she knew it must mean, that bloody rain had been _to keep her safe_ and she could not repay him with death for trying to protect her.

And it frightened her, that he could – would – do that for her sake.

Lady Takani made a contemplative noise deep in her throat, examining her cup.

"You know," she said idly. "Even when my husband was threatening him – no matter what the provocation – in all the time that he was helping me, he never drew his sword."

Kaoru almost laughed. "Would you have liked that?" she asked sharply. "To watch men slaughtered just to keep you safe?"

"No," Lady Takani snapped back. "Do you think he enjoyed the slaughter?"

His eyes, soft and pleading; the wound soaking through his shirt and his half-sincere assurance that he would see a doctor tomorrow. Today, now. When he hadn't seen one since they'd left the village, and bullet wounds infected so easily…

"No," she said reluctantly. "I don't think he does."

Lady Takani nodded brusquely, in a _there-you-have-it_ sort of way.

"I would suggest, Lady Himura," she said with a certain reserve, "that you have greater faith in your instincts."

"…What?"

"Your instincts," she elaborated, taking another sip. "They're very good. You've certainly figured out more of his character than I'd expected."

"How _kind_ of you to say so," Kaoru muttered, frustration building in her again. This was precisely what she had wanted to avoid, this _testing_ , and suddenly she couldn't stop herself from speaking, _again_. "You do realize that I don't love him, right? I'm not a threat to you; if you want to seduce him, feel free. You don't need to _audition_ me – "

"He will never love me." Lady Takani said it with such matter-of-fact conviction that Kaoru found herself, yet again, at a loss for words. "He may never love anyone again. But nonetheless, he deserves some happiness. I don't care if you love him, I don't care if you even like him – but I will not have you making him miserable."

"And what exactly would you do to stop me?"

She smirked. "Do you really think I'd tell you? Besides, I don't need to. I can tell from this conversation alone that cruelty isn't in your nature."

Kaoru remembered the deadly weight of the medicine packet in her sleeve, the lukewarm tea against her finger as the poison swirled and then dissolved. She remembered the smell of it, slightly bitter, and the spreading stain in the soil when she'd poured it off the edge of the porch. Her stomach roiled; she'd come so close, and some icy whispering thing still wondered if she had been right to turn away…

"You don't know the first thing about my nature," she whispered, burning hot and cold.

Lady Takani raised a single delicate brow. "Don't I?" she asked, and then continued on. "I know what it is, when your family betrays you, when they sell you into dishonor for their own gain. How deeply the hatred runs; how the despair infects your bones and rots you from the inside. I know how helpless you must feel, and how frightened. I'm sure you've thought of killing him; perhaps you've even made plans to, dutiful daughter that you are. After all, if not for him, Lord Tokugawa might have lost. If not for him, your father might still be alive. And here you are, forced to marry him, to share his bed and raise his children. I am samurai as well, Lady Himura." Her eyes were unaccountably soft. "I understand your shame."

Kaoru swallowed, shaking under Lady Takani's scrutiny. She hadn't felt this _dissected_ since her father had been alive, and it was terrible and freeing all at once to have someone shine a light into the dark places – all the shame and rage and bitter hate, and the terrible image of her father charging into the swirl of steel and cleaving flesh. Her uncle sneering down on her, reminding her of her _place_ – a tool and a toy for men, a vehicle for their ambitions…

"…and what if I'm wrong?" she said finally.

"It does take a certain amount of courage," Lady Takani remarked acerbically, and Kaoru's back stiffened.

_There are many ways to be brave._

She raised her head and stared straight into Lady Takani's eyes.

"Are you calling me a coward?" she demanded.

"Are you one?" Lady Takani shot back.

"No," she said, "and forgive me, Lady Takani, but I don't _like_ you."

Lady Takani shrugged. "You don't have to," she said, with a subtle smile. "All you have to do is pay attention."

"Like his first wife did?" Kaoru retorted, and had a sudden feeling of going almost too far. She soldiered on. "What if she took the same risk – trusted her _instincts?_ "

A chill descended over the room.

"That," Lady Takani said, jaw tense, "was different."

"So you know what happened." Kaoru leaned forward, bracing herself lightly against the mats by the tips of her fingers. "Don't you?"

Now it was Lady Takani's turn to stiffen and withdraw. "I – no. Not the – details." She rallied quickly. "But I know it can't be true."

"And how's that?"

"Because of how he looks when he talks about her," Lady Takani said tersely. "Not that he generally _does_ , mind you, but – once or twice, he said things – he still grieves for her, you know, even after all these years."

There was a story in her eyes, and Kaoru realized that she didn't need to ask how Lady Takani knew that Lord Himura still mourned his first wife. It was the same way she knew that Lord Himura didn't return her feelings, and never would.

"And you think that's enough?" Kaoru asked quietly. "Enough to gamble my life on?"

"You're a woman," Lady Takani said. "What choice do you have?"

~*~

Kenshin shoved the brim of his hat away from his face, wondering vaguely why he was bothering to wear one. The rain was _incessant;_ it had started mid-morning and refused to let up, and everyone was soaked through to the bone. Even Sano's hair was plastered against his head, and Kenshin hadn't thought _anything_ could make that mess lie flat.

"I gotta say, Kenshin," Sano muttered, wiping futilely at his face with an equally-drenched sleeve, "you must be the only high muckety-muck in Japan who'd actually bother sittin' out here in the rain all evening."

"One hardly had a choice," Kenshin objected, keeping his voice soft. "The shōgun's instructions were to handle the matter personally, after all – and anyway, if the murderer is as skilled a swordsman as the evidence suggests, one could hardly leave the men to handle it alone in good conscience."

"Yeah…" Sano stirred, uneasy. "About that evidence… I dunno if I trust that Hondo guy."

"You've never met Lord Hondo."

"Well, that trained monkey he sent wears too much perfume," Sano grumbled. "An' I don't like the shape of his nose."

"That's a bit unfair, it is." Kenshin couldn't quite stop a snicker from rising in his throat. "Sir Iishido is a loyal samurai, he is, with a fine record of service."

However, he did wear a _great_ deal of perfume. And his nose was remarkably like a strawberry in both shape and color. He'd arrived at Kenshin's manor early that morning with the results of Lord Hondo's aborted investigation and pronounced himself at Kenshin's disposal for the duration. He had been in charge of Lord Hondo's efforts, after all, and was the son of a magistrate; his family had always helped enforce law and order on Lord Hondo's land.

Truthfully, Kenshin didn't particularly like the man – he had an oily, too-gracious way about him – but he needed the help and anyway, it wasn't Iishido's fault that he had such an unpleasant face. His record was sterling, and he served an honorable lord. That was all that should matter.

Sano shifted a little further under the eaves. "Just outta curiosity – how long are ya gonna give this murderer t'show up before you call it off?"

"All night. If he doesn't come, then there's no helping it; but Lord Hondo's investigation indicated that Sir Yoida was the most likely next target."

Sir Yoida was a hereditary vassal of the Tokugawa, as Sir Narita had been. Another loyal head of his small and unambitious clan. Both men had played key roles in Sekigahara, having been trusted with rifle units; other than that and their mutual allegiance to the Tokugawa, they had nothing else linking them together. But Lord Hondo seemed certain, and what did Kenshin know about this sort of work?

"Aw _man_." Sano forgot to keep his voice down; Kenshin shushed him, and he rolled his eyes. "Can't believe my ass is sittin' out in the rain when I could back at the Lotus Blossom…"

"You didn't need to come," Kenshin pointed out. "That was your own decision."

"What, and let'cha get so sucked into this court bullshit that ya forget which way is up? I don't think so, buddy. Y'need someone to keep your head on straight. Besides," and he cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders to settle into a more comfortable position, "I wanna hear how things went between you and the missus last night."

"Oro..." Kenshin pulled his knee up a little further, staring determinedly at Sir Yoida's manor. Light poured from it, barely penetrating the crushing dark of the overcast night and the endless, thrumming rain. Silhouettes moved from room to room, unhurried, going about the evening's business. "We should really be more concerned with the current affair, that we should."

"Kenshin." Somehow, even with it flat against his skull from the pouring rain, Sano _still_ managed to look meaningfully out from under his mane of hair. "Don't tell me y'went and fucked it up."

"No! Well. That is. One is… not entirely sure," Kenshin said weakly, heat rising in his face. "One's memories are somewhat…"

Sano convulsed with laughter, slamming his hand over his mouth to muffle it. A few chortles spilled out anyway and the retainer posted a few feet away from them looked curiously over. Onishi, that was his name: he had a pack of daughters, and his wife was pregnant with what they both devoutly hoped would be a son. Not that anyone had _told_ Kenshin that; he'd picked it up from listening.

Kenshin waved at him to mind his own business, blushing furiously.

"It's not _funny_ ," he muttered furiously, glaring his so-called friend as he spluttered against the side of the building, "and one would think you'd see that – "

"No, it's funny alright." Sano gasped out. "All that fuckin' angst an' drama an' y'were so damn drunk ya forget it all – " He sobered, abruptly. "Unless y'think you mighta' done somethin', y'know…"

"No!" Kenshin said, a little too loudly. Onishi looked over at them again, clearly concerned. Kenshin ignored him, focused on reviewing what little he could remember of last night. He remembered standing outside her room, shoulder throbbing, and the scent of jasmine enveloping him as she opened the door. He'd told her – something… "One would remember such a thing, truly – unless – Sano, how drunk _was_ I?"

Because he remembered two other things, two impossible things: he remembered her laughing, and that he'd run his fingers through her hair and _why_ would he have touched her without her permission if he hadn't –

"Not _that_ drunk," Sano whispered frantically, waving his hands in slightly panicked reassurance. "Shit, there ain't enough sake in _Japan_ t'get ya _that_ drunk – "

"Then why on earth would you bring it up?" Kenshin's eyebrow twitched dangerously.

"I dunno!" Sano rubbed the back of his neck. "Y'just seemed really worked up about it, is all, I thought maybe something _bad_ had happened, shit. Y' _are_ my friend, y'know."

Kenshin forced himself to relax, focusing on the absolute sincerity in Sano's face. Sano was his friend – his first, oldest, truest, _only_ friend – and Sano didn't lie.

And he _was_ on edge, if he was getting angry at Sano for being an insensitive clod. May as well be angry at the sun for rising, or the sea for tasting of salt.

"Sorry," he muttered, his irritation fading. "I'm sorry, Sano. One is – it's difficult."

"Yeah, I kinda got that." Sano punched his shoulder, lightly – _we're still good, right?_ – and Kenshin let him, smiling wryly. Onishi was still staring at them, confusion and surprise written plainly on his face. Kenshin gestured for him to go back to standing watch, a little more sharply this time.

"It can't be that bad, right?" Sano continued. "I mean, she didn't like, try t'poison your tea this mornin' or anything, did she?"

"One wouldn't know," Kenshin said softly. Sano gave him another _look_ , not quite disappointed; mostly just amused.

"Y'left before she woke up, didn'tcha?"

"Yes." Kenshin looked up towards the sky, reluctant, hoping the darkness hid the worst of his blush.

"Too embarrassed, huh?"

"Yes." He'd never been able to hide anything from Sano.

Sano snorted. "Maybe I should play go-between. Whaddya think?"

Kenshin's eyes widened and he choked on air, several horrifying visions playing out in his mind's eye.

"Sano," he squeaked out, "while one appreciates the offer, it is truly, _truly_ beyond the obligations of friendship – "

Then he realized that Sano was snickering, _again_ , and scowled. He was about to respond with some choice commentary on Sano's sense of humor when the shouting began from the other side of the estate. Kenshin snapped to attention, Sano tensing beside him; a second later, they were running, along with the rest of his men.

It was a melee: a mob of ragged men against his retainers, shouts echoing down the street as swords rang against each other like temple bells. The rain had the men fighting half-blind and made footing uncertain; some of the fighters were already down and being trampled underfoot. Sano plunged in without a second thought, barreling towards the thickest part of the brawl. Kenshin hung back for a moment, then pulled his sword from his belt.

He kept it sheathed.

It was too risky, drawing in this crowd. There was the possibility of harming his own men. In battle, he'd always been sent among the enemy without backup or escort, so there was no danger of killing anyone who shared his banner. It wasn't that he didn't trust himself, exactly, but battle and bloodlust could make fools of anyone and even if he did everything right, there was always the chance that someone else would make a critical error.

The men they were fighting bore no crests, he noted clinically. They were trained fighters, and there were a great deal of them – more spilling in from the cross-streets as they fought – and they moved as though they had orders. Yet none of them pressed onwards to the manor proper, almost as if –

"Sano!" he shouted, realizing what was happening. "It's a distraction!"

Sano whipped his head around, nodded, then picked up a large thug and threw him bodily into the manor wall. The scrum parted and Kenshin darted down the opening and over the manor walls, racing for the inner quarters and praying that he wasn't too late.

He was.

As with Sir Narita, there was no sign of a disturbance. Only Sir Yoida's body and the pool of blood seeping from his neck to stain the papers he'd been holding in his hand, the papers that had scattered when he'd toppled to the floor. His legs were still bent; he'd been kneeling at his desk when it happened. No resistance.

Kenshin put his sword away, fingers numb. So. He'd failed.

"Dear!" A woman's voice in the hallway, high and frightened. Sir Yoida's wife, he realized. And he was consumed, suddenly, by one thought: that he couldn't let her see. "Dear, are you alright? Answer me!"

He turned and put out one arm, blocking her way in and hopefully her view of the crime.

"Madame Yoida," he said, as carefully as he could. "Please, m'am, one is certain he would not want you to see – "

Madame Yoida ignored him, panic in her eyes, and pushed past his arm; he pulled her away too late, too late to stop her from seeing, just as he'd been too late to stop her husband's death. She froze in his grip, staring, and fell slowly to her knees.

"…Hayato…" she whispered, her hand covering her mouth. "No. Oh, no…"

"I'm sorry," he said, hating himself for having nothing else to say. "I'm so terribly sorry."

She wrapped her arms around her waist and crumpled, keening. He watched helplessly, his useless hands heavy at his sides.

Sir Yoida's own guards caught up quickly. The chief retainer understood the situation at once and ordered a handful of the guards to escort Madame Yoida away. She went, leaning heavily on her escort, and seemed too old for her years. Kenshin stood quietly to one side as the other guards cleaned the blood from the floor and arranged the body in a more dignified pose. The youngest was sent to alert the corpse-handlers.

Finally the chief retainer bowed deeply to his former master one last time and stood, face still and emotionless as a theatre mask.

"Lord Himura," he said, and his voice was too neutral: like a good samurai, he was hiding what he felt. "Do you require anything?"

Kenshin closed his eyes for a moment. "Were there any probable witnesses?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"No, my lord." The retainer shook his head. "Sir Yoida preferred to keep his private chambers free of guards. Whoever did this penetrated our perimeter without alerting anyone."

"Ah." Kenshin licked his lips, trying to think past the stone in his gut. "Nonetheless, one should wish to question the men on duty tonight. Perhaps there was something…"

He couldn't think of a way to finish the sentence that didn't insult the man's competence.

"Perhaps there was something," he said again, knowing that he was grasping at straws.

"Of course." Nothing in the retainer's face or eyes betrayed what he might be feeling, and Kenshin felt, somehow, that it would be discourteous to read the man's soul at a time like this. "When do you wish to question them, my lord?"

"Tonight, please, if it's at all possible. Before memories fade." He hesitated for a moment, then bowed. "Please – accept one's sympathies for your loss. And my sincere apologies that it was not prevented."

The retainer returned his bow, politely enough. "You are too kind," he said automatically. "If my lord will care to follow me to the usual receiving room, this lowly self will gather the men for questioning."

~*~

The sky was grey with an incipient dawn when Kenshin was done. There had been no witnesses, nor had anyone seen anything useful. The few fighters from the mob who had been captured didn't know anything; they were hired muscle, nothing more, and hired by different people at that.

"My lord," Uramura bowed to him. "Should we put them to torture?"

"Wha – no!" Kenshin almost choked. "Your pardon – that is unnecessary, it is. They are not lying, that they're not. One would _know_ ," he said firmly. And he wasn't sparing them much – they would still most likely be sent to prison and thence to the execution grounds – but it was all he could do for them.

None of his men were dead, at least. Small mercies: he knew that there were several injuries, one or two of them severe, although he didn't know yet exactly who had been hurt. There hadn't been time to find out, so he'd told Uramura to send for however many doctors were necessary to ensure that the men were properly cared for.

"Lord Himura." Uramura was looking at him. Kenshin blinked at him, then realized that he'd said something.

"Your pardon – again – what did you say?"

"This lowly self only inquired if my lord has any further orders?"

"No…" Kenshin wracked his brain – what was left of it, anyway – trying to think through his bewilderment and the throbbing ache in his left shoulder. He'd never been shot before; it hurt much more than a sword wound, and for some reason he just couldn't ignore it the way he normally did. The pain was slow and dull and insanely _present_ ; it hadn't been that bad until the melee, but ever since then it had been a constant ache. Maybe he'd torn the stitches.

"No, one doesn't think there's anything left to be done here, that there's not," he said finally. "Send the men home – and yourself as well, one should think. Only, if you could have copies made of the testimonies taken tonight and see that one is given a set, that would be appreciated, that it would."

"Of course, my lord." Uramura bowed and started to leave. Then he hesitated. "My lord…"

"Yes?" Kenshin forced himself to smile politely, fighting back the urge to clutch at his burning shoulder. "Is something amiss, that is?"

"My lord – although it is not my place – my lord's shoulder – " Worry seemed to darken Uramura's eyes. "It does not seem to be healing well."

 _You should have a doctor look at it again. Just to be safe._ Lady Kaoru's eyes, blue and clear as midnight as she stood in her doorway, the soft glow of the lantern casting her face into stark relief.

"…so one should," he said softly, remembering it again: the fleeting warmth of her skin, and the scent of jasmine clinging to his fingertips. She'd _laughed_. Something he'd said or done had made her laugh.

He was suddenly exhausted.

"Is the doctor still about?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"Then one will seek his services, before one leaves. That I will."

And then he'd go home, and hope that he wasn't forgetting anything important.

~*~

The house was quiet when Kenshin got home; there was a low light burning in the front hall to welcome him, and a sleeping junior maid. He almost padded by her, to avoid disturbing her sleep, and then remembered that she was supposed to be awake to tend to him when he came home. So he made a soft noise instead and woke her just enough to dismiss her to her proper bed, making a note to inform the head maid that he wouldn't need anyone staying up past their bedtimes when business kept him out till an ungodly hour.

His shoulder was still throbbing. He'd _meant_ to see the doctor, he truly had, only the doctor had been busy with the last of the men and his shoulder had started to feel better so it hadn't seemed worth it to bother him. And he'd wanted to go home. Sir Yoida's manor smelled of death and grieving and it was selfish and cruel, but he'd had enough. He wanted to go home, to where the Lady Kaoru was. Where there were laughing children instead of crying women.

Not his children, certainly; not his laughter. But it was enough, really, to be even just on the edge of her life. More than he'd ever thought to have again. And far more than he deserved.

Sano had declined an invitation to stop over at Kenshin's place, claiming that the excess of wealth gave him the creeps. There had been a cold, brooding sense to him when he said it and Kenshin had raised a polite eyebrow and stared until Sano admitted he was going to follow up some of his own leads.

"I don't trust anything about this," he'd said in a tone that brooked no argument. "I don't trust Hondo and I don't trust his monkey and shit, Kenshin, you can see for yourself how much this damn set-up stinks. So I'm gonna look into some things for ya. Unless that's a problem?"

"It's not," Kenshin had responded, blinking back another wave of exhaustion. "Only – be careful, Sano."

"Oh?" It'd been his turn to raise an eyebrow, then. "You startin' to see what's in front'a you?"

"One hardly knows what you're talking about," he'd said, suppressing a yawn, "not at this hour. But if you're implying that there's something unusual about the situation, one knew that as soon as it became clear that the attack was a distraction…"

"Good." Sano's eyes had glinted hard under his nearly-dried hair. The rain had let up slightly towards the dawn, slowing to a gradual, half-hearted drizzle. "Go home t'the missus, then. An' get someone t'look at that shoulder!"

He'd had to shout that last part, because Kenshin was already on his way.

The Lady Kaoru didn't seem to be awake. He hadn't expected her to be; he trod carefully past her suite on the way to the bathhouse, hoping to steal a towel and dry himself off a bit before he went to bed. He'd send for a doctor when he woke up. The shoulder had made it just fine so far, it would make it for another few hours.

He ran into his wife on the way.

She was dressed in practice clothes and sweat was drying on her brow in the cool morning air. So she hadn't been asleep. She'd been training.

"Good morning, honored wife," he said, ducking his head as he passed and trying not to stare. It was hard, though: seeing her like this made him remember when he'd found her in the practice hall, eyes blazing as she struck again and again. He'd wanted her then; he wanted her now, wanted all of her, even if her fire scorched him beyond bearing. "Excuse me…"

"My lord husband – wait."

He turned to face her, plastering a genial smile on his face. "Yes?"

"Your shoulder." She nodded towards it. "You didn't get it looked at, did you?"

Her voice was too firm, betraying her anxiety, and her eyes slid to one side rather than meet his. Her jaw tensed and her throat worked, as though she was trying to speak and not finding the words.

He started to rub his neck, winced, and thought better of it.

"Well, it was a rather busy night, so it was…"

And then she was suddenly in front of him, staring determinedly at the wound, and her hands were reaching towards him and he pulled back, reflexively, because he could _feel_ her and smell her skin – salt-sweat and fading jasmine – and it was too much. His breath caught.

"Let me see," she said quietly, and he forced himself to stillness as she carefully eased back the cloth of his kimono. He thought, vaguely, that he should be doing that himself; but all he could focus on was the drape of her ponytail down her back and the memory of her heated skin against his fingertips.

She sucked in a frightened breath when she saw the wound. He avoided looking at it, or her, staring fixedly over her head and counting the squares on the shoji.

"Honored husband – "

"It's alright, so it is," he said, backing up and pulling his sleeve up over his shoulder. "It will keep."

"It will _not_ ," she said sharply, and stared at him for a long moment. Her eyebrows drew down in a look of fierce concentration, but he couldn't begin to guess _why_ ; he only knew that she was struggling with something, that some resolution was being made behind her bright blue eyes, and that he had no say in whatever she might ultimately decide. Nor should he.

Then she nodded, once, and pointed to the bathhouse.

"Get in there and sit down," she said briskly. "I'll be back in a minute; someone needs to look at that wound right now."

"That's hardly necessary – " he started to object, heartbeat picking up speed, and she cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"Don't argue, okay?"

She turned on her heel and marched off. He stared after her, poleaxed. His hand fell slowly from where it had been clutching his shirt and he swallowed hard, pulse throbbing in his temples so harshly that it hurt. Because this was – impossible, an impossible thing, that she would act this way, to _him_ , like they were almost friends, as if his health _mattered_ to her –

Impossible. Yes. As impossible as the memory of her laughter, as impossible as his fingers' light touch on her skin.

He went into the bathhouse and settled himself on the bench in the changing room, hardly daring to hope. And for a few minutes, he thought he had been wrong: then he heard her light, careful tread on the steps and his heart leapt into his throat.

She pushed the door open with one hand, carrying a small kit in the other, and knelt on the bench next to him.

"Turn," she ordered. "I need a better look at your shoulder."

He obeyed, completely dazed. She slid his collar down again and he felt cool metal against his skin as she cut through the bandages.

"You have medical training?"

"Some," she said off-handedly, focused on her work. "Enough to get by. Father insisted…"

He winced as she began to peel the cloth away; it was sticking to his skin. She smothered a small cry as it came loose.

"Is it that bad?" he asked, blinking. He didn't smell wound-rot…

"Well, it's not infected," she said, voice carefully even. "But you haven't changed the bandages, have you?"

"…oro…" He had meant to. He distinctly recalled meaning to. But so much had happened… "…no. One's mind was on other things."

"I see," she said grimly, and he studied the wall rather than her face. "This is going to feel a bit strange. Bear with it."

And she began to clear out the bandages that had packed the wound. It _hurt_ – not the worst pain he'd ever felt, but it was a strange kind of pain, a release of pressure that he hadn't realized was there. There was a _splat_ of liquid-heavy cloth on the wooden floor, and then she turned aside and rummaged in her kit. He kept his breathing steady, allowing the pain to become a part of him, simply another obstacle to overcome.

"Don't move," she instructed, giving a small bottle a quick shake. "This might sting a little."

It stung a lot. He didn't move. A few more minutes of poking and prodding and one memorable _scrape_ later and she was done. Then she unwound a long strip of bandages and folded them neatly, preparing to pack and wrap the now-clean wound.

She was gentle; as gentle as she could be given the work she was doing, and he'd had enough wounds treated to know the difference. Her eyes never left her work, even when he finally gathered the courage to look down at her instead of studying the wood grain in the far wall. She looked utterly absorbed in what she was doing, her blue eyes darkened to a shade like the sea at midnight and he thought for one selfish, vertiginous moment that he should kiss her, when she was done; he should take light hold of her elbow as she turned to put the medicines away and thank her, softly, before pressing his lips to hers. That maybe if he did, she would welcome it: she would learn into it, warm and shy, and he would tangle his fingers carefully in her hair.

But it was only a moment before he came to his senses. This kindness – this was enough, that she cared even this much, even if it was only on principle. There was no point in wanting more. He would take what she offered and that was all. It was already more than he was entitled to.

"Thank you," he said when she was done, because he _had_ been raised to have manners. She closed the lid of her kit.

"Go lie down," she said firmly. "You've got bags under your eyes – you need to rest. Don't put any weight on that shoulder. I'll send for a doctor today – and when the maid comes in with your breakfast, you _eat_ it, understand?"

"…yes m'am," he said meekly, entirely chastened under the sheer force of her glare.

"Good." She brushed her hair back over her shoulder. "I'd like to take a bath now, if you don't mind."

As he left the bathhouse, he thought he heard her mutter something about instincts and annoying fox-women with too-clever eyes; but he was tired and his shoulder ached with clean, healing pain, so he didn't wonder any more about it.


	7. come slowly, eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I'm alive!
> 
> First, I'd like to apologize for not getting this out in a timely fashion. I misunderstood the start date for my bar prep course (UW's began on June 3rd. Mine began on May 27th) which meant that I did not have a free week to work on this chapter. Then, I fell really awfully deathly ill; between that and my bar course, I simply could not finish the chapter within the allotted period.
> 
> In the future, if there is a delay in the promised update, please check either my author profile page or my tumblr at .com. Explanations and revised schedules will be posted there.
> 
> And just as a reminder, with this chapter, I am officially on a full hiatus from both Invictus and Vaster Than Empires. Updates will resume on AUGUST 10th with a new chapter of Invictus. See you there!

Lord Himura was actually sleeping.

Kaoru had half-expected to find him awake and brooding over his calligraphy kit; that seemed to be all he did, when he wasn't occupied with official business. But when she'd passed by his room on her way back from the bathhouse, she had happened to see inside – not that she'd been _looking_ , mind you, but he'd left the outside door cracked and her eyes had just passed over it – and seen him sleeping. He slept on his back, slightly sprawled, and he hadn't taken his hair out of its long tail.

One hand was next to his head; the other arm was folded on top of the blanket, resting on his stomach. His head was turned towards his hand and his mouth was a little slack, like any exhausted person finally bullied into taking a rest. There were dark circles under his eyes: she hadn't noticed them when he was awake, but now the stillness of sleep forced them into stark relief.

As before, in the village, he looked startlingly vulnerable.

She had thought, then, that it was a lie. And as she stared at him through the crack in the door, she still couldn't forget his terrible force or the river of blood that had flown in his wake. Neither could she forget the open wound in his shoulder, red and sore with poor treatment, or ignore the tight, weary lines in his sleeping face. It didn't seem that he was actually _resting_ ; more that he was sleeping simply because his body could no longer stand to stay awake.

She wondered, briefly, what it would be like to be his willing bride: to slide the door open softly and tuck the blanket close around him, kiss his brow and smile lovingly as her mother had for her father a thousand times before. As she had daydreamed about doing for her husband, for the man she couldn't quite envision but knew she would find one day, a man who would love and honor her, and rule beside her as an equal. A man she would choose.

 _If you were fated for anything else, you would have been born a man_.

Kaoru turned away, mouth twisting downward, and went to dress for the day.

~*~

She had just finished her breakfast when Tsubame informed her that Sir Uramura was waiting to see Lord Himura.

"I told him that Lord Himura was not to be disturbed, as you'd ordered…" Tsubame was a junior maid, very new to her tasks, and rather timid. She wrung her hands nervously as she spoke. "But he said it was urgent… so I thought I should come to you..."

"That was exactly right." Kaoru smiled encouragingly. "I'll go see him now."

"Yes, my lady." Tsubame bobbed her head and began to gather up the dishes as Kaoru stood, glad that she had chosen a more formal outfit for the day. She'd known Sir Uramura since childhood, but she hadn't seen him much lately. He'd offered his condolences on her loss and his congratulations on her wedding day, and those were all the words they'd spoken since her father's death. Which wasn't his fault; the transition was taking time, and they hadn't exactly been close. The former chief retainer had followed her father into death, and Sir Uramura – his right-hand man – had been put forward as the natural candidate. Lord Himura had accepted him easily, and she'd thought at the time that there was some deep strategy behind it, that it was some sort of test of the new province's loyalty. Now, she suspected that it was simply that he was reluctant to make his mark on anything, even his own staff.

Sir Uramura was standing in the entranceway, looking deeply uncomfortable. He hadn't even taken off his shoes. Rain clung to his hair, and a wet umbrella leaned against the wall nearby. He bowed when he saw her, stiffly

"My lady!" he half-barked in that strange way he had.

"Good morning, Sir Uramura."

"The humble person deeply regrets the necessity of the interruption, worthy lady. However, there are certain documents that were requested by your honorable husband…"

"Well, give them here," she said, holding out her hand. "I'll see that he gets them."

Sir Uramura made a slightly strangled sound and Kaoru stifled a sigh.

"He won't mind," she said, a little more harshly than she'd meant to. "And Sir Muraki used to deliver papers to Mother or myself for Father all the time, so you know I can be trusted with them."

He colored slightly. "This humble person did not mean to imply – "

She waved it off. "It doesn't matter. But Lord Himura needs to rest right now. His shoulder's in a very bad way. So if you'll just give me the papers, I'll make sure everything gets where it needs to go, alright?"

Sir Uramura paused for a moment. Then he held out a sheaf of papers, wrapped in oilskin to protect them from the rain and marked with his personal seal. She took it, tucking the package under her arm.

"His shoulder, my lady?"

"Yes," she said. "It's not critical, but he needs to have a doctor look at it again today. I've sent for one."

"I see." Sir Uramura, like his predecessor, was a very reserved man; the trivial rise of color in his face when she'd good as accused him of thinking her untrustworthy was as expressive as he ever got. But it seemed to her that his blush deepened ever-so-slightly as he said the next words. "Please express to him my sincere wish for his speedy recovery. I am certain that the rest of the men join me in this prayer."

"Are you?" The question – like so many of her questions, these days – came out edged, and not quite the way she'd meant it.

Sir Uramura hesitated, then nodded.

"Yes," he said simply. "I am certain. Good day, my lady."

He bowed and left. Kaoru exhaled softly, not quite sighing, and headed for her husband's office. It was attached to his bedroom, and her heart beat a little faster as she slid the door open as silently as she could, both to avoid disturbing him and in deference to her own vague sense of trespassing. He was, after all, essentially a stranger: this was his territory, not hers. And it probably would have made more sense to hold on to the papers and give them to Lord Himura when he woke up, except…

 _Except I'm curious_ , she finally admitted to herself. She had made the choice to spare his life, to trust her instincts – as the Lady Takani has said – and her instincts wanted to know more about the man she was bound to. The man she'd chosen, at least for now.

His office was as neat and contained as the rest of him. A small desk sat facing one of the walls, piled high with enough papers that some of them had migrated to the floor next to it. Each stack was carefully weighted down with a stone. There was a small writing-kit, not the elaborate artistic set that seemed to have some special meaning to him but a simple set of workman's tools, well-kept and well-used.

There was a screen behind the desk, and a small alcove with an ink painting and a spray of seasonal blossoms beneath. Other than that, there was nothing – no books, no oddments or curiosities. Her father's office had been a messy jumble of ideas and half-complete experiments, a treasure trove for an inquisitive child. There had always been _something_ going on in that welcoming tangle, usually something that was going to make Mother and Tae shake their heads and sigh. Lord Himura's office, by contrast, was practically desolate. Almost sad, really, like a room in a house that had suffered a tragedy; a place that had held life, once, and lost it. Abandoned and empty.

She shook her head slightly and padded over to the desk, planning to put the package down and leave. The topmost pile of papers, however, caught her eye, and she could have ignored it and turned away but she didn't. Instead, she knelt at the desk, picked it up, and started to read.

It was a petition from Sir Fujita, about the damn rice field his family and the Kobayashi had been squabbling over since Grandfather's time. That meant that there was probably another petition from Sir Kobayashi in the pile. Lord Himura hadn't found that one yet, judging by the confused note he'd made in the margin. At least, she _thought_ it was a confused note: it might have been a doodle. Insofar as she could decipher the shaky chicken-scratch that passed for his handwriting, it seemed that no one had told him about the feud, and he wasn't sure why Sir Fujita was practically threatening rebellion over a rice field.

Kaoru smiled a little and set it aside, digging through the piles to find Sir Kobayashi's petition. She'd just set it on top of Sir Fujita's and be on her way. That should be all he'd need to realize that the situation wasn't nearly as urgent as the two claimants made it sound.

The paperwork was dreadfully organized. He didn't seem to understand what most of it was for; he'd tried to get things organized by topic but not realized what was important to the topic and what was purely routine. And – oh dear, he'd transposed two sheets of the yearly accounts record, no _wonder_ his notes on it were so bewildered. She slid them back into their proper place in passing and kept going.

It was easy to fall back into the old rhythms. She'd helped her father with this, and her mother with the household accounts; one was very like the other, only greater in scale. It wasn't the most interesting work, but it _was_ necessary, and that made it worthwhile.

Time moved quickly as she buried herself in the job in front of her, and she didn't surface again until a soft knock on the office door startled her out of her reverie. Kaoru looked up, blinking, and automatically tapped her newest pile into order.

"Yes?"

"My lady?" It sounded like Tsubame again. "There's another visitor, but Lord Himura isn't awake yet, and…"

"Who is it?"

"Um…" Her voice, already small, grew even smaller. "It's Sir Sanosuke, my lady, Lord Himura's… Lord Himura's friend…"

"I see." Kaoru put the stack down carefully and went to the door. "Well, I'll go find out what he wants."

Sir Sanosuke was a tall man, broad-shouldered and lean, with an unruly mop of dark hair and dressed like a wandering martial artist. He grinned as he saw her, kicking off his shoes with an irreverent bow. Rain dripped down his face and he wiped it away, flicking his fingers casually. The drops splattered against the wall.

"Hey there, missy."

"Good morning, sir," she said carefully, not sure what to make of him. "I'm sorry, but Lord Himura isn't available right now."

"That's what the little miss told me," he said, jerking his thumb at Tsubame. The junior maid squeaked and ducked her head, hurrying off on some probably-invented errand. "But this is kinda important, so…"

"What is it about?"

He cocked his head at her, leaning back on his heels with his thumbs tucked idly in his waistband.

"Why d'you wanna know?"

There was a challenge in his voice. Kaoru bit back a retort

"Lord Himura was badly injured ten days ago," she said, keeping her voice cool. "His wound is acting up and needs to be tended. He's resting, and he shouldn't see anyone unless it's urgent."

"And you get to decide what's urgent." It wasn't exactly a question, and it wasn't quite a statement: his gaze was suddenly wary, like he'd looked down and seen that he was about to tread on a snake.

Kaoru started to respond, then stopped. She hadn't intended to take this much responsibility – and yet here she was, taking responsibility. Helping with his duties, making sure he was undisturbed when he needed rest – she'd probably be fretting over how much he ate, next, just like Mother had with Father –

 _You should trust your instincts_. Lady Takani's voice echoed through her memory, soft and wistful. She'd felt his eyes on her in the bathhouse as she changed his bandages and cleaned his wounds, and the hunger had been there but there had been something else, too. Something small and humble and shy – and if she was honest with herself, it had always been there, even on their wedding night, when he'd bowed to her and begged for her patience in the days to come.

"Yes," she finally, raising her chin. "I do. I _am_ his wife, you know."

He raised an eyebrow, mouth twisting in an approving sort of smirk.

"Seems you are," he said contemplatively. "So I guess I oughta tell you what's going on, huh? You gonna invite me in?"

She gestured to the interior of the house.

"Please, Sir Sanosuke. Come in."

"Just Sano, missy," he said cheerfully, following her inside. "Titles give me hives."

~*~

Kaoru knew that the shōgun had assigned Lord Himura to some important investigation; he'd told her as much during one of their too-polite dinner conversations. She hadn't known the details, though, and Sano was more than happy to fill her in.

"…so there y'have it, missy," he finished, tossing back the dregs of his tea. "Now, I don't pretend that's all t' the story, but it's all I know and it's damn sure enough t'make me suspicious."

"It does sound strange…" Kaoru said noncommittally. Under her calm façade, though, he heart was racing. The inference was obvious – given the facts surrounding their deaths, her husband was the only man swift and skilled enough to have killed Sir Narita and Sir Yoida. Except that it didn't make any sense: aside from not fitting with what she knew of his character, why would he strike in such a way against his liege lord? There were far easier ways to stage a coup.

And if he didn't solve the murders in time, or at least find an acceptable scapegoat, and was accused… the wife and family of a criminal shared their fate, under Lord Tokugawa's laws. Exile, at the very _least_.

"You said that you were looking into in on your own?" she continued, trying for innocence. Sano nodded.

"Yeah. The hired muscle didn't know much but I recognized some of 'em. Went t'the usual hangouts an' asked around. Got some leads on who was doin' the hiring, but…"

His eyes darkened, hesitant, and he gave her another long, assessing look.

"But?" she prompted, refusing to rise to the bait and wondering what it was about Lord Himura that inspired so much loyalty – and why, despite that, he was still held in such fear.

"…but I did catch wind of somethin' pretty disturbing," he said at last. "Somethin' I figured Kenshin oughta hear about sooner rather'n later."

It took her a moment to realize who he was talking about. He was always _Lord Himura_ or _my husband_ or sometimes _the shōgun's demon_ in her thoughts, never Kenshin, and she'd nearly forgotten that he had a given name. It was strange to hear, sharp and soft all at once, and she suddenly wanted to know what characters it was written with. There were so many possibilities: devotion, modesty, truth, sword, heart…

"And you don't want to tell me," she said calmly, studying the teapot to avoid looking at his face. She couldn't exactly blame him; she was, after all, the captive bride. And if he assumed that she had no particular loyalty to her husband, that her allegiance was grudgingly given – well, he'd be right. "I see. But he really does need to rest."

"Yeah, he does." Kaoru looked up in surprise. Sano shrugged, grinning ruefully. "Hey, I saw him last night. Man never did know when to quit. How bad is it?"

"Well, he's not going to die." She coughed a little. "Does he – does he do this kind of thing a lot, then?"

"You mean, try t'work himself to death? All the time." He snorted, looking away towards the courtyard garden. The rains were lighter today, barely more than a gentle drizzle. "Doesn't know how t'let anything go, that's his problem," he continued, soft as the mists outside. "Still blames himself an' it's been ten damn years…"

"I'm sorry?" There was something very thoughtful in his manner despite his distracted air, as if he was choosing his words deliberately to achieve some desired effect.

"Well, y'know about his first wife, right?" His eyes slid towards her, gleaming.

"I know that she died," Kaoru said calmly, pouring herself a cup of tea.

"Y'heard the rumours, though?"

"I'm not sure this is an appropriate conversation for a first meeting," she said delicately, sitting on her temper. What on earth did he think he was doing? Was he trying to frighten her, or make some kind of threat? Was this a test?

"I dunno, missy," he said, too casually, and stretched his arms over his head. "I mean, y' _are_ married to the shōgun's demon. Ain'tcha just a little bit curious?"

Oh, this was definitely a test. She flashed him a cool, tight smile.

"If my honored husband wanted me to know," she said sweetly, "I'm sure that he would tell me."

Sano leaned in suddenly, almost closer than courtesy would allow.

"D'you actually mean that?" he said, very quietly. All playfulness was gone from his face, now; his eyes were very dark, and under other circumstances she might have thought he _was_ trying to frighten her, after all. "Or are y'just too scared t'go lookin' for the answer?"

 _Trust your instincts_.

"That depends," she said, biting uncertainly at her lower lip. "Are the rumours true?"

Sano rubbed at his chin idly, blowing out a breath, and seemed to be thinking.

" _He'd_ say they were," he said finally. "Yeah. He'd tell ya that he killed her."

"And you'd say…?" She wasn't holding her breath, but it felt as if she was: as if the whole world was waiting to exhale.

"…I'd say different," he said, with a firm nod.

"Well. In that case," and she took a small sip of her tea, heart pounding hard and slow in her throat. "It really does sound like something he ought to tell me himself."

And to her surprise, she meant it.

Sano looked at her for a long moment, then snorted, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah. Lemme know when he gets around to it. I'll probably have t'fill you in on the details… but anyway, about that thing I found out. Can y'let him know that I've got news for him when he's up an' about again?"

"I will." Kaoru nodded. "Although I don't know when that will be."

"Sooner'n you think," Sano said, with a long-suffering sigh. "He hates stayin' in bed, says it makes 'im feel useless." He stood, brushing off his pants. "I'll be heading out, then."

"Why don't you wait around, if you think he'll be up so soon?"

He favored her with a sardonic look as he went to the door. "An' scare the maids? Nah, missy. Too rich for my blood 'round these parts – bein' this close to the shōgun gives me the creeps. Send word to the Lotus Blossom when y'want me, Kenshin knows where it is. And – "

He hesitated again, fingers curling around the screen.

"…take care of him, will ya?" he said finally. "I know ya ain't got a lotta reasons t'like him, but y'gotta know by now that he's a good guy. He'll do right by ya, if y'let 'im."

"I know," she said quietly, not certain what was showing in her eyes. How could she be, when she didn't understand her own feelings? Lord Himura was kind, and gentle, and terribly dangerous: a demon and a good man, and that should have been impossible but it was nonetheless true.

Sano held her gaze a moment longer, nodded, and was gone.

~*~

She went back to the paperwork after Sanosuke left, unwilling to leave a job half-done even if she was infringing without permission on a man's domain. Although he hadn't seemed bothered by her sword-training… but that was different, of course. A samurai woman had to be able to defend herself, after all. True, she should more properly be trained with dagger and glaive – a sword is a _man's_ weapon – but it wasn't that unusual. Ginchiyo Tachibana had fought with every weapon a man did and no one held her in anything but a heroine's esteem.

It wasn't as if administration was totally outside a woman's realm of influence, anyway. She already ran the household, and she could argue that it was really just a temporary extension of that authority, ensuring that her lord husband didn't fall too far behind in _his_ duties while he was recuperating. That was what a wife was for, wasn't it? To stand behind her husband, supporting him, ensuring that his every desire was met so that he need never worry about anything other than serving his liege.

 _Well done,_ she thought, frowning and staring down at a requisitions form without reading it. _I'm even thinking like a dutiful wife_.

Because none of those reasons were the real one. The real one was that this was her _birthright_ , what she had been trained and groomed for: to lead as an equal at her husband's side. A husband she would choose, who would truly love her. That was what Father had promised. He'd raised her as he would have raised his firstborn son, with the understanding that one day she would step into his place, and it wouldn't matter that she'd have to do it under the veil of her husband's authority because she would never have to marry for convenience or political alliance. He had _sworn_ to Mother; she knew the story by heart. She would marry a man she loved and of her own choosing, who would not seek to rule her.

So much for that.

But _someone_ had to make sure that her people were looked after. And she could tell by Lord Himura's notes that he was trying, but it was equally clear that he really didn't know what he was doing. And it wasn't that she was entirely convinced of Lord Himura's kindness herself, but these were her people and she couldn't just stand aside. Not after what she'd already done – not after the bandits, and the order she'd had to give.

And truth be told, she wanted Lord Himura to find her here. She wanted to know what he would do when he did. He wouldn't hurt her, not physically – she was certain of that – but she knew too well by now that you didn't need to strike a person down to do them harm.

So she settled in behind his desk and worked, waiting with an anxious heart for the soft scuff of noise from his bedroom.

It came sooner than she'd thought it would. Her throat went dry and her heart raced, blood throbbing quick and hot through her veins. She kept working automatically, determined to pretend that she hadn't heard – to let him catch her. The door between his bedroom and the office slid open.

"…honored wife?"

His voice was rough with tired surprise and she caught her breath quickly before she raised her head to meet his eyes. They were soft with sleep, still hooded and bluer than usual. The tie in his hair had slid down and loosened so that the strands framed his face differently, softening it. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, yawning, and she saw the flex of his chest through the gape in his half-tied robe; then his eyes widened and he pulled the cloth quickly closed, retying the belt. She thought she saw a faint blush spread across his cheeks, under his eyes, or maybe he was still groggy.

"Is anything the matter?" he asked, stifling another yawn.

"No, honored husband," she said, looking down at the desk and busying herself with the paperwork again. Her heart pulsed in her throat. "I just thought – well, Sir Uramura came by with some documents for you – " she gestured to the package, sitting innocuously on a corner of the desktop. " – and when I came in to put them on your desk I saw that things were a bit – disorganized, so I thought – "

"Ah." His face lit up, eyes deepening to a royal blue. "The guard testimonies."

"Guard testimonies – ?" She made the connection. "From Sir Yoida's estate?"

"Yes, one asked Sir Uramura to have copies made as soon as possible…" He padded towards the desk and knelt on the opposite side, reaching for the package and opening it without checking the seal. Then he looked up at her, startled. "How do you know about that?"

"Oh…" A blush rose in her face, unbidden. "Um. Sir Sanosuke stopped by to ask me to tell you that he had some information you needed to hear as soon as you were awake. He sort of – he filled me in."

Lord Himura nodded. "Ah. Well, it'll be public knowledge before long, that it will. So you've met Sano, have you?"

"Yes. He's…" She hesitated, not certain what to say, how much was too much. The rain tapped gently across the roof, gathering in the gutters to drip down onto the porch in a ragged song. "He's interesting."

"Did you like him?" He was looking at her from under his bangs, almost shyly, and she was struck by the sudden sense that he really cared. That what she thought of his friend mattered to him.

"I don't really know," she said, honestly enough. "We only spoke for a little while, and mostly about the investigation. But he seems alright," she added quickly, "Kind of a bad mouth, I guess, but that's not a crime or anything."

He laughed: a small laugh, little more than a shake of his shoulders, but she'd never seen him laugh before – hadn't known that he _could_ – and the smile on his face was clean and real and inexpressibly fond. _They are friends, after all_ , she thought, and realized that she hadn't been sure.

"That's true, so it is. But one could not ask for a truer friend, that I could not."

"That's good." She finished another stack and began to stand, reluctant to push her luck. "I suppose I should leave you to your work, then. Honored husband."

"Wait a moment, please." Kaoru froze and glanced at him. He was looking away from her, staring at the newly-organized paperwork with his mouth quirking in a bemused smile. "If it's not too much trouble, perhaps you could… one doesn't wish to impose, but – "

"Yes, honored husband?" she forced out through dry lips, not certain what she was more afraid of: that he would ask her, calmly, politely – always politely, he would never hurt her, she knew that now – to never presume to interfere in his affairs again, as would be his right… or that he wouldn't. Because some part of her, small but so much more _certain_ than the rest, thought that perhaps there was a chance he would welcome her. And that frightened her down to her bones, that he might want her here, beside him. As an equal.

Just as she'd always known her husband would.

Lord Himura coughed, and there was definite color in his face. "Ah, you mentioned that the paperwork seemed – disorganized, so you did. One had thought – one believed that things were quite in order, that I did. If you could, perhaps, explain a little of what you've done, one would be grateful. That I most certainly would."

His eyes when he met hers were clear as the sunset sky. And she looked as hard as she could for any sign of mockery or resentment, any hint that things were other than what they appeared to be, but there was nothing to find.

He really was asking for her help.

She sank back down behind the desk, slowly, not taking her eyes off him. His brow drew down, worried.

"It's not an _order_ , that it's not," he said, hurriedly, "One would not presume – if there's aught else you must attend to then please, pay it no mind – it's only that one wasn't trained for this, that I wasn't, one was trained as a warrior first, and if there is any guidance you might have to share…"

He was still holding the packet Uramura had delivered in front of him, like a shield or an offering, and he smiled a little nervously.

"It would be most kind of you, if you have the time, that it would," he finished, and his fingers drummed once against the oilskin-covered package.

"I – well, yes. Of course. Honored husband." Her blood was singing free, not sluggish and aching in her veins, muscles tense with _what might be_ – because she knew, now, what _was_.

"Let's see," she said vaguely, unable to stop the slow deepening of heat and color in her cheeks. "Well, I suppose – what _do_ you know? I mean, what were you trying to do, setting things up the way you had?"

His throat worked. Then he gestured to the space beside her, behind the desk.

"May I?" he asked softly, and her heart fluttered. "It seems it might be easier, if we're on the same side, so it might…" His voice trailed off and he _was_ blushing now, ducking his head and looking up shyly to meet her eyes. "To understand – that is, for me to understand your explanation – one means to say."

He had only stumbled like this once before, in Hito, when he'd offered to let her stay behind. And he'd meant it then, too – that unprecedented offer, to give her back her home. Not because he was displeased, but for the sake of her smile…

 _One never saw you smile, in Edo_ , he'd said, looking at her like his heart was breaking. _It seems you only smile when you are here_.

Her back straightened, and she pushed her bangs out of her face with a sudden pained breath, feeling as though something had fallen off her back.

"Of course," she said, the words coming only half-bidden. "Come over here, and I'll show you."

He shuffled around the desk with another soft, shy smile until he was sitting almost at her side. They were still a few inches apart but she could _feel_ his nearness and it set her on edge, except it wasn't exactly the same as it had been. Something had shifted, in her, in him, in the space between.

"Here," she said, gesturing to the desk. "You were sorting by – well, you seemed to have the general idea, sorting by type, but you were being too specific." She touched each pile in turn and he followed her movements, eyes narrowed in concentration. "You want to start with just a few broad categories, and then separate each category into what you've dealt with and what still needs to be done, instead of muddling it all together like you've been doing."

"Ah." He picked up a stack of requisition forms. "These are all the same?"

She blinked. "Well – yes. They're just requisitions, see?"

"…they don't look the same." His eyes slid away from her, blush deepening.

"No, they don't. Father's been trying to standardize things but people are stubborn…" She grabbed the first sheet on the pile. "But if you just skim them, you'll see they're basically the same thing. And eventually you get used to the different styles. So we have requisition and tax forms, and you want to put those near each other when you're working because they're related to each other. Father always sorted alphabetically – I don't know how you'd prefer to sort them…"

The rest of the morning passed this way. Lord Himura learned quickly, which was good, because he really _hadn't_ been trained for administrative work. She realized fairly quickly that this wasn't a case of a neglected foundation but a genuine lack of any formal training, like a child who tries to learn swordsmanship by watching. Instinct and observation can only go so far; after a certain point, even the brightest person needs to be taught. And no one had ever taught him.

It made her wonder why. Even a third son should have been taught the basics, but the only thing he seemed to really know was swordsmanship. The rest – from what she could see, anyway – was piecemeal. And his handwriting really was dreadful. He wasn't slow-witted, so why had he been so poorly educated? Especially for a man of his presumed station… alright, so he hadn't been born to a high clan, but that shouldn't have mattered. A minor clan was still nobility, after all.

It was… nice, sitting with him, teaching him as she'd been taught. He listened to her, asked questions when he didn't understand, and there was none of the subtle resentment she'd sometimes felt from her father's men when they came to his office and found her and her mother working. They'd never say anything, of course, but she could hear their disapproval in what they carefully didn't say, could see it in how their eyes slid over her as if she were only a decorative screen. It wasn't proper, women sitting in on men's affairs.

But that didn't seem to matter to Lord Himura any more than her swordsmanship had.

Eventually there was a soft noise from the hallway and they looked up almost in unison to see O-tsuki kneeling outside the office.

"Forgive the interruption, my lord. My lady. But the doctor's arrived."

"The doctor?" Her husband glanced over at her.

"I asked him to come later in the morning," she said. "I thought you'd be asleep for longer. You still need to have that shoulder looked at properly."

"…that's so, it is." He was still looking at her, and his eyes were as yearning as ever; yet there was that softness there that she'd never seen before.

"We can continue in the evening, if you'd like." Her heartbeat picked up again and she swallowed, not quite able to meet his eyes. But it seemed natural to offer – and it wasn't as if she could turn away. He couldn't keep going as he had; things were already falling behind, which would have consequences for the welfare of the province and it didn't seem as if anyone had had the courage to intervene before now. "You should see the doctor and rest a bit more first, though. Or you won't heal quickly."

"Ah, you think so?" He stood, adjusting his robe. "Then one will do as you say, honored wife."

He smiled as he spoke, real and warm and innocent as a child's, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with the force of it. She didn't quite return it, not intentionally, but she felt her mouth curve a little around the edges as she nodded.

"I'll see you in the evening, then." She smoothed out the last stack they'd been going over. "I should check in on Ayame and Suzume, anyway – Tae probably had to take over their lessons for the morning, and she has her own duties."

"This evening, then." He nodded, still smiling, and bowed slightly. "Thank you, honored wife, for teaching me."

It shot through her like lightning – _he asked for my help. He thanked me for it_ – and she responded without thinking.

"Thank you," she said, and blushed fully at the shock in his face. "For listening."

~*~

The stables were warm and smelled of horse; outside the rain was coming down in sheets, but none of the cold could penetrate its sturdy walls. Stables were, in Kenshin's experience, universally calm places. They had to be, given that horses could be such nervous creatures. Even the best-trained warhorses had off days.

Not that his old grey mare was a warhorse. He did his best fighting on foot, so really her only purpose was transportation. Palanquins discomfited him on some deep, unspoken level: something about the confinement, the reduced field of vision, the whole _being carried_ thing. Like he needed anything else in his life that he couldn't really control. At least if the horse spooked he could dismount safely with a minimum of fuss.

"Not that you startle easily, that you don't," he said softly, lifting the latch on her stall. She whickered, already turning in anticipation of the treat he had secreted away in his sleeve. He smiled ruefully as she sniffed at his arm, her nostrils flaring as she caught the scent of the ripe pear he'd brought her. At least he could meet one creature's needs.

"Patience," he rebuked her gently, fishing out the fruit and a small knife to carve it with. "It's a virtue, you know."

She huffed and pawed at the ground, fixing him with an imperious stare. A laugh escaped him and the knot in his chest eased, just a little. Enough to get by on.

The doctor had been very, very upset, and expressed that distress in only the mildest and most deferential of terms. Nonetheless, he'd made it clear that Kenshin had been extremely foolish, and if not for the Lady Kaoru's intervention the situation could have become very bad. Kenshin had protested in vain that he had no experience with bullet wounds, and when the doctor had asked ever-so-politely if he'd been given instructions for proper care Kenshin had been forced to admit that he had, and that he had chosen to disregard them.

"…of course, he could hardly call me a fool, but that didn't matter," he muttered, feeding slices of pear to his horse. "One could quite tell that he was thinking it, that I could."

After the shoulder had been seen to the doctor had coughed, nervously, and delicately inquired after the health of his wife. Kenshin had started, twitching away, and the doctor had flinched.

"Forgive me, my lord," he'd said nervously. "But your lowly servant has been asked by our liege, the shōgun, to ensure that things are progressing smoothly between yourself and the lady, and so I am duty-bound to inquire if there is any small way in which I might be of service, to her or to yourself."

"Oro!" It had taken him by surprise, at first; then he'd had to bite back a surge of anger at Lord Tokugawa's interference. "That is, please inform my lord that matters progress as well as can be expected, that they do."

"Of course, my lord." The doctor had bowed, low and anxious. "Your servant is enjoined also to remind you of the importance of a successful union in this matter, and the shōgun's personal anticipation of the birth of your first son."

"One is," Kenshin had said, wrestling down his irritation, "very aware. Of both issues. That I am."

The doctor had looked up, seen his eyes, and beaten a hasty retreat.

"Although it was hardly his fault, that it wasn't." Kenshin informed the disinterested mare, looping one end of her lead around the post. "One simply – does not wish to think on the matter – but it seems it cannot be avoided much longer. Still, one should have shown more patience."

The horse swung her head around to nudge gently at Kenshin's shoulder, ears swiveling in anticipation. The stables had their own staff, of course, and technically he didn't need to come here and spend time with her, but he rather thought that she enjoyed the attention. At the very least she didn't seem to _object_ to his company, not as long as there was a snack involved. And there were few enough creatures in the world that were only ever glad to see him, even if it was mostly the treats that she looked forward to.

She huffed into his shirt, as if responding to his thoughts and presented him with her withers. He scratched them dutifully and reached for the curry-comb, sighing.

So. Lord Tokugawa was beginning to suspect that he was shirking his marital duties. Well, it wasn't a total surprise. Children were the entire point of the union, after all, the proper seal on the alliance. He'd known that when accepted the marriage, but he'd thought – but he hadn't thought, not really, not when there was no real possibility of refusing the match. And now what was he going to do? She would never – and he'd never ask of it her – even if she consented it would only be out of duty and –

The mare snorted, disturbed by the cessation of the comb's gentle scratching and the sudden closeness of her rider. Kenshin rested his forehead carefully on her shoulder, trying to catch his breath as he sorted through too many possibilities, all of them bad. He closed his eyes, breathing in the warm, close smell of the stables: horse and straw and wood shavings.

Lord Tokugawa had always seemed to have a certain personal fondness for him; he'd certainly granted him more leeway than he did most of his vassals, justifying it as giving genius its due, or something along those lines. But Kenshin had served him long enough to know when he could not be pushed, and in a matter such as this – something of importance to the future of the nation – he would never yield. He had already given Kenshin a way out with the offer to divorce them, and Kenshin had refused it.

He should have accepted the divorce. He should have let her go when there was still time, before he'd learned how deep her courage ran, before he'd truly come to know her passion and her quick mind and the way her eyes glowed when she smiled. But he hadn't. He'd hoped, despite all reason –

"What was I _thinking?_ " he asked, slightly muffled by the horse's bulk. The thin hairs coating her neck rubbed rough against his skin. "You weren't, Himura, you damn fool," he answered himself, hearing his master's voice. "You never do. What will it take for you to _learn?_ "

He didn't want to lose her. He'd bandied about such words – about her honor, and her valor – but the truth was that he'd started to fall in love with her the moment he'd seen her emerge from the shadowy door to join her bridal procession. She'd paused there, drawing her shoulders back and her head high, distorting the lines of her wedding dress and his heart had skipped a beat at the courage and the outrage in her bright blue eyes. By the time she'd come to their bridal bed, fierce and proud and wreathed in soft, sweet-smelling steam, he'd had no resistance left to offer.

And it wasn't as though she completely hated him, not anymore. They had sat so close only a few hours ago, near enough that he could feel her warmth, and he'd been very aware of the thin layer of cloth covering him. She'd let him cross the gap – he'd dared to ask and she'd said yes, invited him to join her and talked freely with him about something that mattered to her. And he'd _felt_ some part of the wall between them crumble, known that he'd taken another step towards her brightness.

"I shouldn't have asked," he murmured, scratching the mare's withers soothingly when she pawed, restless and discomfited by his distress. "It wasn't my intent to – I _wasn't_ trained to administrate, I _do_ need help – but I should have stopped before – "

Oh, but he wouldn't trade those few hours with her for anything. The first natural exchange they'd ever had – he wouldn't want to lose that, or the way her eyes had glowed soft and vulnerable when she'd said _thank you for listening_. She'd even corrected him, once, and didn't even seem to notice what she'd done. As if he was any other man. And she'd smiled; smiled and offered to sit with him again.

"Selfish, Himura," he said through a thickening throat. "Selfish, and a fool."

There was a noise behind him and Kenshin turned to see a young boy standing in the aisle, a bucket of feed in his hands and shock in his eyes. He wore a stable boy's uniform.

"Your pardon," Kenshin said, starting to bow in apology and catching himself. Lords didn't bow to stable boys; any attempt to do so would doubtless set off another maddening chain of bows. "Is it feeding time already?"

"Uh…" The boy swallowed, his grip on the handle tightening. "Mr. Sato's worried that she's getting colicky, so I'm supposed to give her some special feed."

"Colic?" Kenshin laid a hand against the mare's stomach, alarmed. "She seemed fine yesterday, that she did."

"Yeah, but she was restless all last night." The boy was eyeing him warily, a certain hostility in his gaze. Kenshin couldn't stop a sigh from escaping.

"Well, one doesn't wish to second-guess the stablemaster, that I don't," he said, patting the mare's neck as he stepped out into the aisle. She shook his hand off and looked over her shoulder at him, clearly vexed by the interruption.

"Your pardon as well," he said with a certain humor, sketching a bow towards his horse. "One will resume one's duties after the youngster's are discharged, that I most certainly will."

She swung her head back around, pointedly ignoring him, and the boy stepped carefully into her stall. He was just the right height for her to lip at his disheveled brown hair, and she began to eye the top of his head with a speculative air as he spread the mixture in her feeding trough.

Kenshin tucked his arms in his sleeves, frowning at her. She looked up, a picture of horsey innocence. He raised an eyebrow and she huffed, dancing delicately in place. The lad twitched away from her, almost flattening himself against the trough.

"There's no need to worry, that there isn't," he said, as gently as he could. "She was only plotting a bit of mischief; one thought you might prefer not to be on the receiving end of it, that I did."

"You sure about that?" the boy asked, edging nervously away. Not that he could blame the lad; the mare was a great deal bigger than he was and it was a very small space.

She ducked her head down to stare at the stable boy, a wicked glint in her eyes. He froze, his hands mere inches from the door.

Then she whinnied and blew snot all down the front of his shirt.

The lad blinked, face slack in shock that faded all too quickly into indignation.

"Why, you – !"

Kenshin quickly interposed himself between boy and horse, carefully pushing the animal back.

"You're being quite rude," he informed her. "He was only doing his job, that he was, there was no need for that."

She tossed her mane, unrepentant, and lowered her muzzle to the feeding trough. Kenshin shook his head and started to pat the boy on the shoulder; then he remembered who he was and pulled his hand away.

"She _is_ restless," he remarked. "Your pardon, child. Between the rain and one's duties, one has quite neglected her needs. Has she been turned out at all recently?"

"Uh." The boy shot him a flustered glance, anger giving way to pure bewilderment as she backed out of the stall. "No. Not since the rain started. It's been coming down too heavy."

"Well, it's not raining too hard today, one doesn't think." Kenshin picked up the currycomb again. "After this, one will take her out for a while. Perhaps that will calm her down. It should help with her digestion, too."

"Sure, m'lord." The lad's voice sounded odd, as though the words fit strangely in his mouth. "Whatever you say."

"Yoshi!"

Kenshin turned, again, as another person came striding down the hall. He only dimly recognized the lean man as Mr. Sato, the stable master, but he certainly recognized the grim look on his face as he zeroed in on the youngster.

"Stop lollygagging, boy! And don't bother your betters. Lord Himura has more to be getting on with than talking to you."

Kenshin raised his hands in a placating gesture, forgetting that he still had the comb on one of them.

"One was not troubled at all. Indeed, it seems one has caused the trouble – one did not intend to keep young Yoshi from his duties, that I did not. The fault is mine."

The boy – Yoshi – stiffened, and Kenshin could hear the words that he didn't say: _I don't need you to look out for me_. So much pride for such a young man, much more suited to a samurai than a laborer.

 _We don't choose our destinies_ , he thought, and forced a smile at Mr. Sato's agitated apology.

"There is no need to apologize, that there is not. Again, one begs your pardon for the inconvenience."

"As you wish, my lord," Mr. Sato said, bowing low. Then he grabbed Yoshi by the ear and dragged him down the hall. Kenshin winced sympathetically; he knew a thing or two about hard masters.

"Well, then," he said, turning back to his horse. "One supposes a turnout was your aim all along, was it not? There's no need to harass the stable boys when you're vexed at me; one is quite willing to be rebuked on that account."

The mare snorted and kept eating.

~*~

The sky had cleared by the time Kenshin finished grooming his horse and taken her out to one of the larger paddocks. She fairly skipped her way there, clearly glad to be out of the stable and even happier to have gotten her way. He shook his head as he unhooked the lead from her halter, patting her neck.

"Alright, then. Enjoy yourself while the weather's still good, that you should."

He'd barely finished saying it when she cantered off to kick up some mud, promptly coating her fetlocks and undoing all of his hard work. Kenshin smiled and leaned back against the fence, watching her frolic. Would that he could please everyone so easily.

The thought of breaking the fragile peace between the Lady Kaoru and himself was almost too much to bear, but he didn't know how much longer he could avoid the heir issue. A year, perhaps; after that, Lord Tokugawa would want to know why she hadn't conceived. He could blame himself, maybe, claim incapacity – it wasn't as if he was known to seek female company, so who could say otherwise? If he bribed a doctor to say the necessary tests had already been performed…

Lord Tokugawa would send his own physicians, though, and there was little chance of subverting any of them. And he could hardly claim that _she_ was barren, and heap dishonor on her.

"That won't do, not at all," he said aloud, folding his arms in his sleeves. "This situation is no fault of hers."

Perhaps, if he waited, a solution would present itself. Perhaps in a year she'd be more accustomed to him, and see him as a friend; then he could ask what _she_ wished, without fear of duty coercing her to submit.

"Perhaps I might sprout wings and fly to the moon to spend my days pounding mochi," he muttered. "That would solve the problem neatly, that it would."

Kenshin burrowed a little deeper into his coat, curling in around the nervous ache in his gut. His throat was tight, and his teeth wanted to grind. There was anger building in him, had been since the doctor's question, and it felt like sickness. He closed his eyes instead and breathed deep, gathering energy from his core and guiding it to the top of his skull.

_In. Out. Let go._

He could hear his master's stern voice echo across the years, calm and a little chiding.

 _Idiot apprentice. Don't say I didn't warn you_.

"You did, master," he murmured as the tension leaked slowly from his body. "That you most certainly did."

But he hadn't listened, and he'd learned afterwards that this was the way of it, always, between the old master and the new: learned it from the letter the old man had left behind. Cold comfort, when his hands were still aching and raw from building the funeral pyre. Then again, his master had never been a sentimental man. That he'd even left a letter for Kenshin to find was more than he'd expected, and proof enough that the he'd cared in his own way.

"It can't be helped," he said, with a final sigh. "There's nothing to be done now, so it would seem."

Except carry on, as he had always done; carry on and pray for the meaning to reveal itself.

He felt the girls before he saw them, the two bright sparks circling a single shy candleflame, and he felt the candleflame gutter when the three of them drew close enough to see him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then gathered his finest polite smile and turned to greet them.

Ayame and Suzume were escorted by a junior maid today, the same shy girl who'd been forced to stay up and wait for him to come home last night. She bowed deeply when she saw him and kept her eyes fixed on the ground when she straightened. The girls bowed once, as was proper, and waited with wide eyes to see what he would do next.

"Hello, little Ayame. Little Suzume," he said, bowing in return. "What brings you out today?"

There was a long silence. The girls peered out from behind the young maid's skirts, eyeing him warily.

"Auntie Tae said we could go see the horses if we were really good at lessons," Ayame piped out suddenly. "But there's no horses today."

"No horses, no horses!" Suzume echoed, and Kenshin couldn't help truly smiling. The junior maid shushed them both hurriedly, casting an anxious glance at Kenshin.

"M'lord Himura has business to attend to, you mustn't bother him," she said in a low voice. "It's not polite."

"As it happens," Kenshin said, "one's only business just now was in escorting herself to pasture, that it was." He gestured to the mare, who had abandoned the mud to crane her head over the fence and snap at a ripe plum dangling just out of reach. "So there is at least one horse, that there is."

Ayame edged a little closer.

"What's her name?"

"Her name…?" Kenshin blinked. "She doesn't really have one, that she doesn't." That wasn't entirely true; she had a stable-name that the grooms used to keep track of her, but that was all. Warriors didn't name their horses.

Ayame frowned at him, coming almost entirely out from behind the maid's skirts.

" _Everything's_ got a _name_ ," she said skeptically. "We learned about it. Everything's got a little god so everything's got a name."

Kenshin rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, then it would seem that she hasn't told me hers yet, that she hasn't."

"Have you _asked_ her?" Ayame demanded, hands on her hips and looking so much like her older sister that he wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

"Oro?"

"Ask her, ask her!" Suzume cheered, and Ayame marched over to the fence.

"It's _easy_ ," she informed him, and leaned over the bottom railing. "Ms. Horse! Ms. Horse!"

The mare snorted, shaking her mane, and trotted over.

"What's your name, Ms. Horse?" Ayame asked as soon as the horse drew up to the fence and cast an equanimous eye over the girls. She favored Kenshin with a deeply sardonic look and he shrugged helplessly, somewhat at a loss. He hadn't spent any real time with the girls – not since Lady Kaoru had interposed herself between him and them that evening in the garden, looking like a tigress ready to defend her young – and he had a vague feeling that he should be leaving now, that she wouldn't want him here.

Then Ayame tugged on his pantsleg.

"Lord brother-in-law?" Her little face was frowning in serious thought. Suzume was engaging in some mysterious toddler game with the railing.

"Yes?"

"I don't think Ms. Horse can hear me, she's too far up." Then she gave him an expectant look, and he had no idea how to refuse her.

So he didn't.

"Alright, alright," he said, kneeling down. "Up we get, then." He hoisted her in the air and sat her on the top rail, where she and the mare were eye-to-eye, and ignored the maid's startled gasp in the background. Ayame reached out to pet the horse's long nose, giggling when she blew out a long gust of horsey-smelling breath. She lipped gently at the little girl's palm, then let herself be petted.

"She's soft!"

"Soft, soft!" Suzume chorused from somewhere around his ankles, and he looked down to see her holding her arms up expectantly. Ayame was balancing expertly on the beam, so he picked up the younger girl, holding her carefully in his good arm to let her pet the horse as well. She gave out a high peal of delighted laughter. The mare pulled her head back, startled, and glared at Kenshin.

"It wasn't me, that it was not," he said innocently. Ayame laughed again. The horse hung her head over the railing and nudged meaningfully at his sleeve.

"There is no more of the pear," he informed her. "One is quite out of treats, that I am."

She gave him a look.

" _Truly_ ," he insisted. "Perhaps if you tell little Ayame your name, one might fetch those plums down from the tree for you."

The mare did not look impressed. Ayame patted at her cheek and she swung her head back to face the little girl.

"If you don't want to say, I'll make it up!" she said cheerfully. "Let's see… you're grey, and really soft, and you jump at loud noises, so…" She stared hard at the horse, clearly thinking. "…your name is Mouse!" she declared, and Kenshin choked. The mare looked downright affronted.

"Mouse, mouse!" Suzume reached out for the horse's mane, grabbing at the strands with plump fingers.

"What do you think, lord brother-in-law?" Ayame looked eagerly at him, and Kenshin let out a strangled cough.

"One thinks it is a very fine name, that I do," he said firmly, because there was no refusing that bright, flickering joy.

The mare – Mouse – stared at him, betrayal written plain in her eyes. Kenshin gave her a helpless look. She flicked her ears forward and then back, resigned.

"Can we give her plums now?" Ayame asked, all artless innocence. Suzume squirmed in his arms, parroting her sister as she tried to get closer to Mouse.

"Um, Miss Ayame, I don't know…" The maid wrung her hands, blushing. "I'm sure we don't want to bother Lord Himura."

"It's no bother, that it's not," he said mildly, and meant it. He liked children. They took the world as it was, not as reason and education told them it must be. It had been too long since he'd spent time with any, his reputation being what it was; no one wanted to risk irritating him. And it soothed his heart, a little, that the girls didn't seem to fear him, not once they'd overcome the initial shyness.

If they didn't fear him, then perhaps he wasn't something so fearful after all. He wondered, sometimes.

"Can you help me down?" Ayame reached out to him and he started to offer his other arm, then stopped.

"Ah, miss," he said, turning to the maid. "Could you take little Suzume for a moment? One is under strict orders from the doctor and the Lady Kaoru not to strain this arm, that I am."

"Um." The maid peeked out from under her bangs. "Yes, my lord."

Transfer accomplished, he helped Ayame jump down from her perch.

"Let's get the plums now!" she said, tugging at his hand. He wasn't expecting it and stumbled a little trying to keep with her.

"Oro! Alright, alright, there's no hurry…"

"Come on, you're so _slow_!"

"Slow, slow!"

"Miss Ayame! Um, my lord – oh dear!"

Ayame dragged him off. The maid followed, holding Suzume and calling anxiously after them and Kenshin, despite everything, laughed.

~*~

"That's all very well and good, m'lady," Tae said skeptically, "but it still doesn't address the problem of what he is, and what he's done."

Kaoru sighed. "I know. But…"

"But he is kind to you," Tae said, and there was a pitying sort of understanding in her eyes. Kaoru looked away, guilt growing in her chest.

They were walking towards the paddocks, where the girls had insisted on going with Tsubame after their lessons. Ayame was mad for horses, much as Kaoru had been at her age. Tae claimed it was a universal obsession among young girls.

"Yes," she said, resigned to what was coming next. "He's kind to me, and – part of me thinks that's enough." Her voice was nearly a whisper when she finished.

"How large a part?" Tae said, raising an ironic brow. Kaoru didn't respond. Tae shook her head.

"If you truly think it's enough," she continued, gently, "then I suppose I don't have any say in it. It's your life. I can't make you keep fighting when you've lost the will."

Kaoru rounded on her, stung. "And what if it's _not_ a fight?" she snapped. "He wasn't _playing_ with me – he does care about Hito, and its people. He's _trying_ to rule well. And I wasn't the one who lost the war – "

"No," Tae said serenely. "That was your father."

" _It was not_." Her voice snapped loud enough to startle some servants running past on an errand, and she gestured sharply for them to move along. "Father did _not_ lose the war. If the other lords had _listened_ to him, everything would have been – it would have – " She gasped in a breath, wrestling her anger to the ground. "It would have been different."

Tae only watched, waiting for her to finish.

"Anyway," she said, looking away again. "I didn't lose this war. I wasn't even consulted. So why should I keep fighting it, when I could be trying to help my people?"

"That _is_ your uncle talking."

"Uncle only cares about the clan," she said sharply. "This is bigger."

"Province first, family second, self last of all," Tae quoted, and Kaoru's throat thickened to hear her father's words. She nodded, slowly.

"Yes."

And Tae didn't have time to say anything else, because the paddock was within view and it wouldn't do to be arguing about this where her sisters could hear. They were too young still; it was enough that their father was dead without burdening them with the full truth.

Tsubame was standing under a plum tree outside the paddock, a grey horse grazing nearby. She saw them coming and started to run towards them, then stopped, glancing over her shoulder. Then she looked back at them and wrung her hands, and Kaoru's heart dropped into her stomach.

"Tae…"

"Tsubame has a nervous nature," Tae said. "I wouldn't worry." But there was a faint edge of anxiety in her voice, and they both picked up their pace.

"I'm sorry!" Tsubame blurted out as soon as they were within range. "I really am – but the girls – and he didn't seem to mind – he was very patient with them – "

"Who?" Tae stopped to ask. Kaoru continued around the tree and saw what had Tsubame in such a state.

Lord Himura was sprawled out underneath the tree and her sisters were using him as a pillow. Ayame was cuddled against his side and Suzume had nestled in the crook of his good arm. They were asleep, all three of them. The girls were clearly worn out, little more than puddles of sleepy child, and Lord Himura looked – like he was actually resting. There was no tension in his face, no weary crease to his brow or slight frown drawing down his lips. In fact, it almost looked like he was smiling. There was some kind of fruit juice smeared on all their faces, and the tree above looked remarkably devoid of plums for the season.

There were flowers braided in his hair: anemones and daisies and dandelions, and Kaoru put a hand to her mouth to smother a laugh. A few giggles escaped anyway and he stirred, opening his eyes.

"…honored wife." There was that vague surprise again. He always seemed so startled to see her. "Your pardon," he said, nodding at the exhausted girls. "One would rise, but the little ones…"

"Actually, we came to fetch them home," she said, kneeling in the grass beside him. He blinked, confused and sleepy. "It's nearly dinnertime," she explained. "Unless you've spoiled their appetites."

He touched a few fingers to his mouth, feeling the stickiness there, and colored.

"Your pardon, again," he said, smiling guiltily. "But – they are very hard to refuse, that they are."

His eyes met hers: they were a soft, almost lavender shade, gentle as a flowerbed. One of the buttercups was coming loose and starting to dangle down by his ear, and she had the sudden, absurd urge to pick it out of his hair.

"My lord. My lady." Tae bowed to them both, something unreadable in her eyes. "With your permission, Tsubame and I will be taking the girls to bed, now. Since their supper has been spoiled." There was a slight hint of disapproval in her voice.

Lord Himura started. "Ah – yes. Of course. Your pardon, Miss Tae, one lost track of the time."

The girls, however, had other ideas. Sitting up dislodged Ayame, who lodged a sleepy protest and grabbed on to Lord Himura's shirt; attempting to transfer Suzume from his arms to Tae or Tsubame's resulted in a small, angry wail and a tighter grip on his collar.

"Ah. Erm." He was blushing quite fiercely now. "Your pardon, for the fourth time…"

"It's all right." Kaoru stroked gently at Ayame's hair. "Ayame. It's time to wake up."

"…don'wanna wake up…" she muttered.

"If you don't wake up, you'll have to sleep outside all night," Kaoru warned. "Wouldn't you rather sleep in your nice warm bed? With Mr. Bear and Dolly?"

Ayame grumbled a bit more but sat up and opened her eyes, yawning hugely. Kaoru gathered her in her arms, gasping a little at her weight.

"You're almost getting too big for this, little sister," she said fondly. "Honored husband, if you don't mind, it might be easiest for you to carry Suzume home…"

"One doesn't mind at all," he said, smiling up at her with a strange, hopeful look. Kaoru was peripherally aware of Tae watching, always watching, her face as bland as a theatre mask and giving none of her thoughts away.

She was suddenly, fiercely unconcerned with what Tae thought.

They didn't really speak on the walk back. Lord Himura walked beside her, not three steps before, and he did it as casually as he had asked her to help him that morning. As if it simply hadn't occurred to him to do otherwise. He stole the occasional glance at her, but they didn't burn quite as fiercely as his previous ones: they were softer, almost reverent. Or maybe she had simply gotten used to the way he looked at her.

It was easier to detach Suzume from his arm when there was a bed to transfer her to. He hesitated as she tucked them in, withdrawing slightly, and then, very carefully – watching her and waiting for her response – he reached out and patted them each once on the head, face alight with a tender smile.

"Sleep well," he murmured, and stood. She remembered her father doing the same thing, and for the first time it didn't hurt. It only ached a little, like a wound half-healed.

 _He'll do right by ya, if y'let 'im_.

Kaoru kissed her sisters goodnight and stood, facing her husband. He swallowed, eyes bright with something she had no name for. There was something growing between them, fragile as a soap bubble, and for the first time she didn't feel the urge to shatter it.

"Well," she said. "Shall we go to supper, honored husband?"

"Ah. Yes," he said, and nodded as he smiled.


	8. my only wish I dare not say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? It's my birthday! I am now officially old enough to know better.

The summons from Lord Tokugawa had come halfway through the morning meal. Kenshin had had just enough time to finish eating and change into something more formal before heading for the gardens of the Middle Interior. He'd found the shōgun sitting on a raised platform beside an ornamental lake choked with lily pads, watching a woman – one of his wives, by the elegance of her clothes – preparing tea. Kenshin stopped a few paces away, uncertain whether or not he was permitted to interrupt. Lord Tokugawa waved him forward.

"Don't linger, Himura. Come, join us."

Not _that_ formal, then. He was probably overdressed. Stifling a sigh, he bowed at the edge of the platform and settled himself. Lord Tokugawa nodded slightly, then returned his attention to the ceremony. Kenshin occupied himself with trying to figure out what was going on. There were hundreds of subtleties to the tea ceremony based on setting, season, number of guests and time of day, and Kenshin had never quite been able to keep them all straight. Or even most of them. Lucky for him, only the host needed to really master the details. The guests' roles didn't change much from ceremony to ceremony, and as long as he paid attention he could usually keep his head above the water.

He guessed that this was one of the shorter versions, and since the tea was almost ready he'd come in about halfway through. The lady served them; Kenshin accepted his cup with a quiet compliment and a glance over at Lord Tokugawa. He wasn't hiding a smile, so Kenshin had probably gotten the etiquette right. It was a blessed thing, he thought idly, that Lord Tokugawa seemed to enjoy his occasional lack of refinement; it turned what could have been a serious hindrance into an amusing affectation. No one dared publicly scorn him for being the occasional beat behind as long as their lord found it to be a tolerable eccentricity.

"The breeze is refreshing, isn't it, Lord Himura?" The shōgun sighed meditatively. "It's good to have a moment of peace in these troubled times."

"It is, my lord," Kenshin murmured, and tried to decipher the deeper meaning. There was always a deeper meaning, with Lord Tokugawa.

It was nearing mid-morning and the rain hadn't started yet. In fact, it was shaping up to be a fine day: the sky was clear and the air was warm, but not as intolerably hot as it had been before the rains finally came. It would be nice to have a few days proper summer before the rains ended and the muggy August heat began. Maybe he could take Ayame and Suzume out riding, if the Lady Kaoru permitted it… maybe she would want to come along.

Maybe he should stop getting ahead of himself. They had spent time together yesterday, after dinner, going over the paperwork. They'd even talked a little about things unrelated to the administration of the province – mostly her sisters, and how they were doing in their studies. But it hadn't been more than idle chatter between acquaintances, and that was a _good_ thing. Whatever he might feel…

Those excuses were feeling thinner and thinner, lately. It had to be her choice – but why couldn't he at least ask her to choose him? He wanted to her to be happy; was there anything wrong with trying to prove to her that _he_ could make her happy?

… _aside from the fact that I'm partly responsible for the death of her father and the downfall of her clan, nothing_ , he thought wryly, and bit the inside of his cheek to keep it from showing on his face. And yet – when he'd reached out to her yesterday, in his office, she hadn't turned away, and she hadn't stayed only out of duty. At least, he didn't think so. She'd seemed too genuinely surprised for that.

She'd _thanked_ him. And after dinner, _she'd_ reached out to _him_ , not the other way around: she'd been the one to bring up the agreement to resume the lesson that evening. They'd worked together until they were both yawning, and _she'd_ been the one to suggest that they make a habit of reviewing the paperwork together.

He'd agreed, and not entirely for selfish reasons. He did need the help, and she was an excellent teacher. If his heart beat a little faster when she leaned across him to grab a stray form – if sharing the workspace had her sitting close enough that he caught the trailing scent of her perfume – what did it matter, as long as she was there of her own free will?

"So," Lord Tokugawa said, setting down his cup. "How goes your investigation into the murders of Sir Yoida and Sir Narita?" His voice was deceptively mild.

Kenshin's eyes widened for a moment, caught off-guard. Then he remembered Sano's message.

"There is a potential lead, my lord," he said, relieved to have _something_ to offer this early on. "One intended to begin pursuing it more fully today, in fact…"

"I see. That's good." Lord Tokugawa seemed to sigh, then. "However… Kame, dear, will you excuse us for a moment?"

The woman bowed.

"Of course, honored father," she said, standing, and wandered off into the gardens. Not a wife, then. She stayed within earshot, but far enough away that she wouldn't overhear so long as they spoke quietly. Lord Tokugawa waited a moment, and then continued.

"It's not enough, Himura," he said, sliding into a businesslike demeanor. "I need you to find the killer before the week is out, if not sooner."

"My lord?" Kenshin froze, teacup halfway to his mouth. "That is – the investigation only commenced two days ago. One is still sorting through the information collected by Lord Hondo, that I am."

The shōgun made a sharp gesture. "Dismiss anything Lord Hondo gave you. He will mislead you."

Kenshin had the most disconcerting feeling of the world shifting beneath him, as though an earthquake was rattling the ground where he sat and nowhere else.

"Your pardon, Eminence," he said carefully. "One is uncertain of your meaning, that I am. Is Lord Hondo not a trusted member of your privy council?"

"He is," the shōgun said, serenely enough. "For the time being, it pleases him to be; he will not move openly against me while I still hold power. However, if the situation were to change – if the balance of power were to shift against me… well, he is a man of significant cunning, and has never failed to grasp an opportunity when it was presented to him."

Slowly, Kenshin put his tea down.

"And the balance of power is shifting?"

"It may well, if this murderer goes unchecked much longer. Soon the whispers will begin: that I am growing old and feeble, that I have lost control of my own retainers. Or worse, that the bargain I struck fifteen years ago has driven me mad and lead me to unleash my demon on my innocent followers for imagined slights. After all, the murders could only be committed by one capable of inhuman speed – and there is only one swordsman in Japan _known_ to be capable of such a feat."

"My lord." Ice lodged itself in Kenshin's heart, spreading cold water through his veins. "Surely – but one has not, would never – "

"You know that," Lord Tokugawa said shortly. "I know that. What surety do the others have? A legend is a double-edged sword. I had thought you wise enough to see how it could be used against you – against us all."

"I – " Forgetting himself, Kenshin cast about for some thread of sanity to pull himself ashore. "But – Lord Hondo was the one who told me that Sir Yoida was likely to be the next victim – "

"An interesting fact of which I have already taken note. If Lord Hondo should feel inspired to end his life honorably sometime in the near future, you will know why. However, Himura, in the meantime," and here the shōgun picked his cup up again. He drained it to the dregs and examined the pottery with a careful eye, noting every flaw – intentional and otherwise.

"In the meantime," Lord Tokugawa continued, "I can do nothing. Not without proof that Lord Hondo seeks to strike against me through you. You must protect yourself, Himura. And your family." He traced a single fingertip over a pale indent where the dripping black glaze had run to one side, leaving a white smear like a falling petal. "How is your lady wife, by the way?"

"She is well, my lord," Kenshin said, throat tight.

"Lady Kame says that she thinks you polite. Very polite, apparently." There was a glint of good humor in his eyes and Kenshin allowed himself to relax, fractionally. It had only been a reminder, then, that there was more than his own life and reputation at stake. As if he could forget. "And the doctor tells me you refused his services?"

"They were not necessary," Kenshin bit back a more visceral reaction. "The situation – "

And here he faltered, because he could not say that it was no concern of Lord Tokugawa's; the shogun had arranged the marriage as a political necessity, and its success was very much his concern.

" – the situation progresses as well as can be expected, that it does," he finished, lamely, and Lord Tokugawa shot him a knowing glance.

"You've bedded her, then?" he asked dryly, and shook his head with a sigh as Kenshin looked away.

"Listen, Himura," he continued after a moment's pause. "It's your nature to be gentle. Well and good – gentleness sometimes prevails where force would be meaningless. But not here." The shōgun raised a pacifying hand as Kenshin started forward despite himself, barely holding a snarl behind his lips. "I'm not saying you need to hurt the girl. Just – stop holding yourself back. You're a good man; you treat her with honor. It's more than she could expect given the circumstances and she damn well knows it, so stop acting like you have something to apologize for."

Either the shōgun had spies in his household, or Lord Tokugawa knew him better than he'd thought. Kenshin supposed, rather glumly, that it was both.

"My lord." A muscle in Kenshin's jaw jumped slightly. "One has, in her eyes, much to apologize for, that I do. She has been sold to her enemy – "

"And did you ask for her?" Lord Tokugawa interrupted, voice sharp. "Did you say: I want _her_ for my own? No. It was her family that offered her and her family that sold her, not you. You only obeyed _my_ orders, as duty required. It could be said that I sold you as much her family did her."

"She does not know that, my lord."

"Then tell her so." He set his teacup down with a decisive _thud_. "Court her, if you feel you must. Only do it, and do it soon. She's your _wife_ , man, the mother of your future children, not some stranger. Act like it."

It was the ache in Kenshin's temple that made him realize he was grinding his teeth. _Act like it_ – how? Barge into her room and demand his rights? Offer her the pretense of _choice_? She would never refuse if he approached her, even if he tried to assure her that the choice was truly hers.

The shōgun was watching him carefully, face calm as a theatre-mask and just an unreadable. With a single long breath, Kenshin brought himself under control and bowed low.

"One will take your words to heart, my lord. That I will."

It was, after all, the correct thing to say. Lord Tokugawa snorted.

"I'm sure you will." His gaze swept past Kenshin to the lake and its cloak of lilies. A few buds nestled gently in the round green leaves; there would be blossoms, soon.

When the shōgun spoke again, his voice was very soft.

"An old friend used to say, and I have found to it to be true, that our lives do not belong to us. The lady Kaoru knows this, in her blood and bone; all that she is belongs to others, to her clan and her province and her husband and his lord. She is samurai, born to serve. She has _never_ been truly free to choose her destiny. In fact, the only person involved in this – the only person in all Japan, really – who has ever had that freedom…" and here his eyes met Kenshin's again, "…is you, Himura. Consider that, while you're brooding over past sins. Dismissed."

"Eminence." Kenshin bowed again, stood, and left.

~*~

Kaoru's memories of the stables at Hito castle were warm, woodsy things, full of rich smells and low, happy whickers. Her father's hands guiding hers on the currycomb, and the strange wide slipperiness of a horse's back. The first time she'd ridden on her own she'd clutched the reins so hard that they'd left red marks across her fingers and palms, and her father had laughed, gently, telling her not to go so hard.

"He's your partner, Kaoru. Trust him, and he'll trust you," he'd said, and she'd been so _afraid_ to let go – but then she _had_ , and they'd moved together like one thing, faster and faster until they flew and she'd thought that she would never be afraid again, ever, not when the world was full of such glory.

The stables at Edo Castle were much like Hito's, only bigger. Which made sense; Lord Tokugawa had more men, more horses. More everything. All of Japan, now – if he could keep it. It was strange to stand in the stables in the castle of the enemy – the enemy she'd been sold to – and remember her own so clearly. But a stable was a stable everywhere, so why wouldn't she only need to stand in one to remember what it was to be a child and safe, with the future ready to unfold before her?

She shook her head, once, and looked at Shirojo. A lady couldn't leave her house unguarded, after all, and a lord's wife least of all. He coughed, giving her an uncertain look, then sighed when she did not relent.

"Alright, m'lady. Just wait a moment." He bowed and jogged off down the hall. Kaoru waited with arms crossed, rehearsing what she was going to say to Yahiko when Shirojo fetched him. That was why she was here, after all, to give him a piece of her mind and order him home – not to dawdle in her memories like some ancient lady long faded, forever mourning her losses.

_How long must I go on lamenting?_

The fragment of poetry crossed Kaoru's mind unbidden, invoked by the image she'd chastised herself with: Komachi in her last days at Sekidera, the great poet withered and broken in her tiny hut. The beauty of the play, at least, had been worth Lady Kame's unsubtle probing at her feelings towards her husband.

 _The living go on dying_  
The dead increase in number  
Left alive in this world –  
How long must I go on?

And a few weeks ago she would have told herself: forever. Everything was taken from you, _everything_ , and you must never, ever permit yourself to forget that, even for a moment –

But that was before and this was _now_ , and things had changed. Could change. If she allowed them to.

There had been something in her husband's eyes last night, when they'd finally left for their separate beds. Hunger, yes – but there'd been so much softness there, too, that she couldn't imagine what had changed except her own perceptions. He'd looked at her as though she was some kind of miracle and she'd thought: _no one should ever be this grateful_. Because what had she done, exactly, other than teach him what her father had taught her? She hadn't meant to give him a gift, but he acted as though she had…

Then, the next morning, Ayame and Suzume had appeared at the door while she was serving Lord Himura breakfast, hovering wide-eyed at the threshold with Tae behind them. He had blinked at them, pausing, and put down his bowl.

"Yes?"

Ayame had bowed, solemn and small, Suzume following just a beat behind and a touch more clumsily.

"Thank you, lord brother-in-law," Ayame had said. "We didn't get to say it yesterday 'cause we fell asleep, but you're supposed to thank people when they're nice." There had been a certain reserve in her voice, as though she was reading from a script, and Tae had inclined her head ever-so-slightly in approval

"Nice!" Suzume had crowed, and before Tae could stop her she'd toddled into the room and stumbled, almost knocking into Lord Himura. He'd caught her in time and set her on her feet, smiling that bright, little-boy smile. His _real_ smile, Kaoru had come to think of it, and been surprised that she did.

"Careful, now. And it's no trouble," he'd said. "One doesn't always give Miss Mouse the attention she deserves, that I do not. It would be a great comfort if one could rely on you to keep her company when one is unable to, that it certainly would."

Ayame's eyes had widened.

" _Can_ we?" she'd said, breathless, and Kaoru had covered her smile with her sleeve.

"If it's not too great an imposition," he'd said solemnly, and Ayame had beamed.

They'd talked about more than the weather, that morning. All business, of course – but there was a common ground between them, now.

 _It seems it might be easier, if we're on the same side, so it might…_ he'd said, eyes, shy. _To understand, that is_.

Was she ready to accept that ease? _Could_ she – or would it be the final loss of herself and everything that she held dear?

If she trusted him, would she fall – or fly?

Before she could find the answer Shirojo came back. It took a moment for Kaoru to recognize the brooding stableboy trailing behind him as her cousin; Yahiko had done a very good job at his disguise, even down to the way he held himself, with rounded shoulders instead of a samurai's pride. His eyes widened when he saw her, and his mouth fell open and clicked shut, as though he'd swallowed a shout.

"Is there someplace out of the way where we can talk?" she said coolly. Yahiko bit his lip, looking suddenly guilty.

"Uh. Over here," he said, gesturing to a door in the wall. Shirojo strode ahead of them both and opened it, giving the room beyond a practiced glance. Kaoru marched inside, Yahiko only half a step behind. It was an old storage room, rarely used. The corners were packed with dust, and what equipment was left was both antique and very broken.

"This should do," she said, turning to face her cousin as Shirojo shut the door behind them. "Yahiko, what on earth – "

Before she could finish her sentence Yahiko had flung himself at her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding on for dear life. She took a step back, startled, and looked wide-eyed at Shirojo. He seemed as bewildered as she was.

"How did you get out?" Yahiko asked, voice muffled. "I'm really glad to see you but you have to go back, what if he finds out you left – "

"What? Yahiko, what are you _talking_ about?" His grip on her loosened and she knelt, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "What if who finds out I left?"

"The _demon_ ," he said, urgent. "If he comes back and finds out you're gone – "

"The demon?" And it took her a moment to remember; she filed her surprise away to mull over another time. "Do you mean Lord Himura?"

He nodded, looking at her like she'd grown a second head.

"Nothing's going to happen," Kaoru said, shaking her head. "Except he might ask where I went at dinner. And I'll tell him I went to the stables to see when his horse would be turned out, because Ayame and Suzume wanted to play with her later, and I went myself because I needed the walk. And that will be that," she said firmly.

"But…" Yahiko furrowed his brow, deep lines creasing a long path between his eyes. He looked like he had the day she'd convinced him, all preadolescent mischief, that planting his sweets instead of eating them would grow a candy tree. Skeptical – knowing not to believe, but at the same time almost wanting to. And not wanting to, also: because if he didn't believe, he'd get something he wanted. But if he did, he might get even more…

"You mean – you're not… he's not hurting you?"

"No," she said, holding his shoulders and looking into his eyes, willing him to believe. "He's not. Is that why you're here?"

She'd thought it might be. A moment later, he nodded.

"Well, don't worry," she said briskly. "It's not like that at all."

Yahiko narrowed his eyes, wary. "Then why is Shirojo here?"

"Because Misao was worried, too," she retorted. "Even though there's no reason to be. Ask Shirojo."

"It's true," Shirojo put in from his post by the door. "Like I told you, little lord, Lord Himura's not that kind of man. He may be a terror on the battlefield, but that's about all he terrorizes. Doesn't duel, even, regardless of the insult."

"So stop worrying about me," she said, picking up the thread, "and go home. Aunt Kyoko must be worried sick. I have Tae and Shirojo and if _they_ can't protect me, what do you think you can do?"

"More than you think," he retorted. "Just 'cause I'm little doesn't mean I don't have friends – "

He snapped his mouth shut, dismayed.

"Friends?" Kaoru's stomach lurched. "Yahiko, what do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter." He pulled away from her, scuffing at the ground. "It's just – you know, I can help. I'm not useless."

"You can help me by going _home_." She reached out to him again. He flinched away. "Things are still dangerous here. Especially for you – I can't protect you here, and it isn't as if we're Tokugawa allies. If someone found out who you are – "

"I'd tell 'em I just wanted to be Lord Himura's page, so I followed him out here to convince him," he said, and a certain pride flitted over his face. "They'd believe that."

Kaoru sat back on her heels, impressed. It was a good excuse – history was full of stories about spurned would-be apprentices camping out on masters' doorsteps, earning acknowledgement by their unrelenting determination. No one would think it surprising that Yahiko might try to follow in their footsteps.

"Still," she said, after a moment. "You shouldn't be here. I want you to go home. And tell your _friends_ , whoever they are, that I don't need their help."

He twitched, guilt in his eyes, and she knew she'd struck home. So he had made some kind of bargain. Ice choked the breath from her lungs, and she fought to keep her face still.

"Yahiko." She lowered her voice, soft and urgent. "What did they ask you to do? And what did they promise you?"

"Nobody asked me _anything_ ," he protested, weakly. "And I didn't promise – "

"Don't _lie_ to me!" She snarled despite her best intentions. "If someone is plotting against my hus – against Lord Himura, I need to know! Just because they're his enemy doesn't make them our friends!"

"They promised me you'd be safe." He glared at her, defiant.

"And do you really think that would stop them, if me or the girls happened to be in the way, even by accident?" She stared hard at her cousin, willing him to understand. They might regret her death, her sisters' deaths, but if circumstances dictated – it would be deemed a necessary sacrifice. They were only women, after all.

Kaoru remembered, unbidden, that first rainy night: Lord Himura standing uneasily in the hall, with that terrible dye job dripping down his shoulders and begging her to tell him if he hurt or frightened her, so that he could make it right. And before, when she'd knelt with the poison tea in her hand and he'd asked her forgiveness, swearing that she and her sisters would never be endangered again…

Her cousin swallowed, hard, and looked away. Anger darkened his brown eyes, turned them almost black.

"What do you care what happens to him, anyway?"

Which was as close to an admission of defeat as she was going to get. Kaoru sighed, unable to answer – not because she didn't have one, but because she didn't understand the one she had.

"…there's a lot going on, Yahiko. Whoever you've made a deal with – they're just going to be a complication and things are complicated enough. Tell them the deal is off. I'll send a message to Misao and she'll make sure you get home safely." A thought crossed her mind. "For heaven's sake, Yahiko, have you even _met_ the man you're plotting to kill?"

"Well, yeah." He glowered. "What of it?"

"Did he seem like a demon to you?"

He thought about his answer – truly thought, and she knew that she'd hit some uncertain chord in him. The same uncertainty she had felt, was still feeling – how could a man with so much power, so much blood following in his wake be so kind?

Was he a monster who acted like a man, or a man with the strength of a monster?

"…No," Yahiko said finally, reluctantly, as if the answer had taken all his strength to give.

"You remember what my father always said, right?"

Yahiko nodded, and quoted. "Anyone may say anything they wish. It is a man's actions that will tell you his true nature. Remember what others have said, but never let them decide your opinion."

Kaoru shrugged. "Well, then."

Her cousin scowled, digging in his heels. Kaoru shook her head slightly, pushing her bangs from her eyes. She'd won, and they both knew it – only Yahiko would need some time to find a way to admit it without actually saying that she was right.

"At least think about it, will you?"

"… _fine_ ," he muttered. "I need to get back to work."

"Go on, then. And if you want to see me, just send a message with Shirojo or come to the house. I'll make sure he checks in on you, alright?"

Yahiko nodded, and left. After a moment to collect herself, Kaoru left as well.

~*~

There was a letter from Misao waiting for her when she returned to the manor, a chatty missive full of gossip and news of her pregnancy. Kaoru read it with a smile; when she was done, she held it carefully over a candle and waited for the second message, written in the margins, to reveal itself.

_Heard about the murders. Lord Himura framed. Aoshi investigating. Killer is hired assassin – Black Hat. Shirojo can find him._

"So that's it…" Kaoru murmured, feeding the letter to the flames. She'd written Misao last night, asking for help – the messages had probably crossed midair.

A conspiracy to frame Lord Himura. To what end? He was close to the shōgun, but that was all – Hito was not an especially powerful province, nor did it have any ancestral loyalty to him. All that he had, he'd earned in his lifetime. Who could desire what he had enough, or hate him so much, that they would risk the shōgun's wrath?

More urgently, now that she knew what was going on, should she tell Lord Himura what she knew and risk revealing her most powerful allies, or let him go on alone? In any other situation… but this _wasn't_ , this was an attempt to frame him for treason, and a traitor's family shared the traitor's fate.

She clenched her fists atop her thighs.

 _I'll have to find out what he knows_. She would ask, tonight, how the investigation was going. That was safe enough. He'd talked about it a little last night, when they were going through the paperwork. She'd ask, and if he already knew about the conspiracy and Black Hat, then that was fine… and if not…

He had been willing enough to accept her help, yesterday. Had seemed, even, to appreciate it – no, not seemed, _had_. He'd done everything she told him to, and while he'd asked _why_ he'd never questioned her reasons or her expertise. He'd only asked in order to understand. She knew the difference, by now; she'd dealt with too many of her father's more conservative retainers not to.

And when she'd explained, he'd _listened._

 _Maybe_ …

Was that her reason talking, or the warm hope blossoming in her chest? That he might want to rule beside her, and not over her…

Kaoru shook her head, standing. She'd find out what he knew tonight, and plan from there. No sense getting worked up over what may never come to be.

For now, she needed to see to her sisters.

It was midafternoon before Ayame and Suzume were done with their lessons and free to visit the pastures. Lord Himura's horse – Mouse, now, and Kaoru didn't know what to make of the lightness in her heart when she thought of how the mare had been named – seemed glad to see the girls, or at least to see the treats hidden in their sleeves. She bowed her great head with a horsey snuffle, taking slices of honeyed pear from their palms with delicate lips. Offerings duly given, she consented to be made much of.

Kaoru lifted Ayame up to perch on the top of the fence, where she communed enthusiastically with the old mare, speaking at length on various subjects with no particular rhyme or reason. It was a good thing, Kaoru thought wryly, that horses didn't speak Japanese; otherwise poor Mouse would be quite at sea. As it was, Mouse seemed content to allow the small human to carry on as long as she was receiving her due admiration.

Suzume gave Mouse a few desultory pats and then squirmed to be put down. Kaoru let her go, trusting her to stay within arm's reach. And if she didn't, there were half a dozen guards in a ragged perimeter around the place, so they were hardly in any danger.

Kaoru leaned against the fence, watching her sisters, and wondered. Two weeks ago – had it really been such a short time? – she would never have imagined this scene. Two weeks ago, all she could see was a long slow death by inches, as her unwanted marriage drained the life from her.

Two weeks ago, her husband had been a stranger.

Was he any less a stranger now?

What did she know about him? That he was kind. That he treated her sisters gently, and they trusted him. That he listened to her, and asked for her help with things that he didn't understand. That he wanted her, badly, but had never touched her – except for that one night, in the storm, when he'd reached out and drawn a single strand of her hair through his fingers.

She touched her cheek, the memory of his flesh searing into hers. He'd looked so pleased with himself for making her laugh.

 _I don't ever want to hurt you_ , her thoughts whispered in his voice, soft and roughened with sake. _If I ever do something to scare you, or that hurts you, you have to tell me. So I can fix it. Please._

She knew that he smiled – when he truly smiled – with perfect innocence. And she knew that he moved faster than the wind, and men fell before him like grass before the flame. She knew that he could make a bloody rain.

And she knew that he did not draw his sword unless it truly _mattered_.

She knew that he had drawn his sword to protect her.

_How long must I go on lamenting?_

She hadn't started the war. Nor had she ended it. She hadn't even been _asked_ if she would serve as a sacrifice, only informed that she had been chosen: her compliance had been assumed. And she would have consented if her uncle had only asked, _but he hadn't_. Why that mattered, she couldn't quite say – but it did.

Just as it mattered that Lord Himura _had_. He'd wanted her help and he'd asked for it, when he could have commanded. He'd _asked_ , respectfully, deferring to her knowledge as though there was nothing odd or strange about a woman acting in a man's domain. And he'd _listened_ when she taught him: listened, and learned, applying himself to the paperwork with grim determination, as though they were an opposing army and all he had was a single broken blade.

Kaoru smiled a little, remembering. Lord Himura had a habit of pushing back his hair out of his eyes when he was concentrating, and he didn't always wait for the ink to dry before he picked up the paper he'd been working on. By the end of the evening his forehead had been covered in streaks, his fingers spotted black with ink. He'd looked at them with evident dismay, then laughed softly.

"Master always did say that one would come to regret neglecting one's calligraphy, that he did," he'd remarked, almost to himself. Almost, because he'd looked shyly at her out of the corner of his eyes, from underneath his bangs, as if he was hoping for a response.

"It wouldn't happen if you waited for the ink to dry, first," she'd said off-handedly, trying not to chide.

"Ah. That's so," he'd said, and smiled. She hadn't been able to stop her lips from quirking upwards in response.

Lord Himura cared about Hito, and he cared about her, and he cared about her sisters. Could her uncle say the same? So what, then, did she _owe_ her family – when it seemed that only her father and her mother truly valued her, and they were both dead and gone?

What would they have wanted for her? If they were here, now, listening to her thoughts – to her endless, circular, unanswered questions – what would they tell her to do?

Province first, family second, self last of all.

Who cared more for Hito – her uncle, or her husband?

"Big sister," Suzume tugged on her hem, startling her out of her reverie. "Big sister, where's lord brother-in-law?"

"He's on the shōgun's business," Kaoru said, crouching down. "And he won't be back until evening. Why?"

"Wanna play flowers," Suzume said, pouting slightly. It took Kaoru a moment to realize what she was talking about – although it made sense that last night's flower-crown had been Suzume's doing. She was weaving another one as they spoke, and finished it with a triumphant grin.

"That's very pretty," Kaoru said. "Who is it for?"

"Me!" Suzume crowed, setting it clumsily on her head. Then she got up and padded off towards a new patch of flowers a little further away, having picked her old spot clean. She sat herself down – more a fall than a sit, really – and started picking blossoms with careful deliberation. Kaoru shook her head, smiling, and turned to check on Ayame. The older girl was still chatting happily with Mouse, petting her nose. The mare had left off eating and was gazing intently at the little girl, almost as if she really did understand what Ayame was saying.

"How is Mouse?" Kaoru asked gently.

"She's okay," Ayame said. "But it's kind of lonely without other horses to play with."

Kaoru's heart tightened in her chest. Ayame had had a dozen friends in Hito – children of retainers and servants, and now there was only her little sister. Anything else was a security risk, here in Edo Castle where she was a daughter of the half-tamed enemy.

But it was this, or leave them to her aunt. And that Kaoru would not do.

"Well, then, it's good that she has you to keep her company, isn't it?" she said finally, smoothing down a cowlick in Ayame's hair. "Maybe there'll be a few more horses along soon, hmm?"

"Maybe," Ayame said dubiously. "Big sister, when am I going to learn how to ride?"

"Once things settle down a little more, I'll see what I can do," Kaoru promised. Ayame nodded and returned her focus to Lord Himura's horse, whispering some small promise in the mare's ear. Mouse snorted at her, raising a spate of giggles.

"Honorable lady?" said a voice from somewhere behind her. Kaoru turned to see one of the shōgun's retainers standing behind her. He bowed.

"Forgive this lowly self's interruption, but the honorable lady must accompany me at this time."

"What?" It came out unbidden; Kaoru's hand raised to clutch her collar and then she recovered herself. "Forgive me, honored sir. May I ask what this is about?"

"Allow this lowly self to explain, honored lady." The man took a step forward, slitted eyes gleaming with something too like pleasure. He had a long, narrow face, and there was a strange twist to his mouth like he was holding back a grin. She tried to take a step back but couldn't; she was caught between the fence and the wild-eyed man, who she was increasingly sure was no servant of the shōgun. Not with those eyes. _Killer's eyes_ , she thought dizzily, and tried to keep the fear from her face.

"Of course," Kaoru murmured, heart thudding against her ribs. She rested the tips of her fingers against her lips in a demure expression of concern, calculating. If he moved, could she dodge far enough to one side? Would she have time to grab the dagger hidden between her breasts? And what about her sisters? They were within sword-reach…

Her eyes slid to the guards. None of them seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. They were too far away to see – her own order. A silent curse slid from between her lips.

Something hard pressed into her stomach. His sword-hilt; he'd partly unsheathed it, preparing for a draw.

"If you scream," he said, pleasantly, "I will kill your sisters. Now, come with me."

~*~

The walk to the Lotus Blossom was long enough to clear Kenshin's head somewhat; he ambled along under the watery sunlight, doing his best to ignore the way the crowd shied and parted before him. He refused to repeat the dye experiment, and anyway, he was used to it by now.

Freedom. What a peculiar notion – that he was _free_ to do anything. He'd been free, once, and thrown it away. Was that what Lord Tokugawa had meant? That because he hadn't been born into this, because he'd _chosen_ it, he had no right to complain?

 _Our lives do not belong to us_.

He knew that better than anyone. His life hadn't been his for ten years, ever since – ever since _she'd_ died, died for him, so that he would carry forward and what choice did he have, after she'd made him swear to live on?

Or had his lord meant that there was no sin in claiming his husbandly rights – that the Lady Kaoru knew her duty, knew what was expected, and that he shamed her by refusing to let her fulfill her purpose? Kenshin snorted.

"She has lost enough," he muttered rebelliously. " _This_ much, at least, one can give her…"

Choice. Lord Tokugawa had been right in that, at least – Kenshin hadn't chosen to marry Lady Kaoru any more than she had chosen to marry him. But only she had been _sold_ ; he had been _awarded_ the marriage, and the title, and the damn province with its too-large castle and too many lives looking to him, entitled to his protection. He had gained and she… she had been lessened.

The thought lurched in his stomach, churning up bile, and a passer-by gasped at the expression on his face. Kenshin forced his lips into a neutral, meaningless smile.

She was samurai, born to serve. She had never been _free_ – so what right did he have to take from her what little choice she had? He would _not_ approach her, not for that, never for that – never without her permission. He would not make the same mistake again. The world might conspire to see her made small, but _he_ would not. And what was the point of being a demon if you weren't allowed, every now and then, to break the rules?

He wanted to see her great – to give her the space to grow and see what she would become without fear and protocol smothering her. How far she would soar into the open sky… He wanted the spark in her eyes he'd seen last night to never fade again, to watch the fierce light in her face as she drew order out of chaos like water from a well, pouring it out to nourish the soil. He'd _seen_ her restraining herself, suggesting where she wanted to command, asking where she should have simply _done_. Because of him, no doubt – because she was still uncertain. Still afraid. He hadn't known how to tell her, so he'd kept silent, but…

"I will never reduce you," he murmured. " _Never_."

Born to serve, yes, but not a servant, and he would not make her one. Not even if his lord ordered it. There were some things that no man had a right to do.

The Lotus Blossom was shuttered and closed when he arrived. The entire neighborhood was quiet; this was not a place that lived in the daylight hours. Its denizens – and customers – came out only at night. Kenshin knocked on the door, waited a moment, and then stifled a sigh as an exhausted maid slid open the door, saw his hair, and flung herself down on her knees.

"Honorable lord," she gasped out. "H – how may this humble, worthless establishment be of service?"

"One has come to visit Sanosuke, that I have," he said politely. "Would you be kind enough to tell him of one's arrival?"

She paled. "Y-yes, honorable lord. At once. Please, come inside."

"Thank you." He stepped over the threshold. "One is sorry to impose."

"It will only be a moment, honored lord." She climbed unsteadily to her feet, careful not to raise her eyes, then bobbed a quick bow and scurried into the darkened hall. Kenshin stood in the foyer, not bothering to take off his shoes. He had no intention of staying here for long; if Sano wanted to talk, there were other places to do it, with fewer listening ears.

The maid padded quickly back after a few minutes, glancing anxiously over her shoulder at Sano ambling easily along behind her. He yawned, cracking his neck, and nodded when he saw Kenshin.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Sorry to bother you, Sano." Sano waved dismissively: _it's nothing_. "You left a message with the Lady Kaoru for me?"

"Yeah, that. Probably shouldn't talk about it here." Sano turned to the bewildered maid. "No worries, missy. Me an' Kenshin here'll be takin' off, but I'll be back tonight."

"Of course, Sir Sano." She bowed, doing a fair job of hiding her trembling. "Honored lord."

"C'mon, Kenshin, before you give the girl white hairs." Sano jerked his head towards the street. "Let's go for a walk."

Kenshin followed him out. Sano blinked blearily in the daylight, shoving hair out of his face, and studied Kenshin.

"How's tricks?" he said, after a few moments. "Somethin' up?"

"No," Kenshin said automatically. Sano raised an eyebrow. "Yes," Kenshin confessed, with a guilty grin, "but it's nothing to do with the current situation, that it's not…"

"Tell me anyway." Sano shoved his hands in his pockets. "Or – lemme guess. It's about your little missy, huh?"

"It's not – " Kenshin stopped himself, because it _was_ important, and he didn't want to lie to Sano. "We should discuss your information first, that we should," he said firmly.

"Alright." Sano swiped at his nose. "So there's this assassin-for-hire – independent, like – calls himself the Black Hat. Supposed to be some kind of magician. Rumor has it he's in Edo doin' a job for someone, pickin' off some samurai."

"A magician?"

"Yeah. Supposed t'be able to freeze people in place with a glance or somethin'. I dunno, just seemed like it might mean something."

"It might…" Kenshin frowned, staring off into the distance as the two of them wandered along the side streets. They were heading towards the castle, and Kenshin wasn't sure if it had been Sano's idea or his or simply coincidence; but he wanted, suddenly, to ask Lady Kaoru's opinion.

"If this Black Hat can paralyze his opponents…" Kenshin mulled aloud. "It could create the illusion of inhuman speed, that it could."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." There was a note of relief in Sano's voice. "So, want me to dig up more?"

"If you could." Kenshin could hardly do it himself, not with his red hair – he was too well-known in Edo. Any information he gathered would be tainted by fear. "It would be a great help, that it would."

"Got it." Sano slung an arm around Kenshin's shoulder and grinned, somewhat manically. "Now… spill, Kenshin. What's up with the missus?"

"Ah – it's nothing, Sano, truly."

"Don't make me shake it outta you."

"One – that is – well, you met her, did you not?" Kenshin asked, somewhat desperately. How could he explain what it had meant, that it wasn't _just_ paperwork, even though it was… "What did you think of her?"

"Me?" Sano sucked in a long breath. "Well, didn't really get t'know her but… seemed smart. Lotta spirit. Stronger than she looks, too. Why?"

"Um…" _Because I desperately needed to stall_ , he didn't say. "That is…"

Sano gave him a very knowing look.

"Kenshin. Out with it."

Sighing, Kenshin gave in.

"One is – it is difficult to explain but it seems, perhaps – she might come, soon, to think of me as a friend, she might. And yet…" He outlined the rough content of Lord Tokugawa's speech, and the political need for heirs, and his own reluctance. Sano listened with a slight frown on his face.

"I ain't sure I get it," he said carefully, when Kenshin had finished. "I mean, you _like_ her, right? Y'just about melt when y'talk about her."

"One – yes. Yes, I do."

"An' she's startin' t'like you?"

"One – hopes so. At any rate, she seems… not as wary as she was."

"So what's the problem? She's samurai, she knows the score. An' once ya got her in bed y'can _finish_ convincin' her you're not a bad guy, hey?" Sano's hand twitched, as though he'd been about to make a lewd gesture and thought better of it. Sensible of him; Kenshin's jaw was aching again.

" _No_ , Sano. One will not – " He groped for the words. " – diminish her."

"What d'ya mean?" Sano looked genuinely puzzled. Kenshin forced back a hot wave of frustration. Of course Lord Tokugawa wouldn't care, but he'd hoped that Sano at least would see the problem.

"One would never wish to – take liberties – with anyone," he murmured. "It is only that, with the situation being what it is, how can one even discuss the issue with her, without fear that she will, well…"

"That she'll do her duty?" Sano shrugged. "An' what's wrong with that? Hey, now!" He raised his hands to ward off a glare. "I mean, it's her decision, too! If ya think she's startin' to trust you, why _not_ tell her what the problem is?"

"It – to take more from her, when she has lost so much – it is _not right_ ," Kenshin said finally. "One wishes to – _give_ to her, never to take. To be a gift and not a duty…"

Sano's face cleared. He looked at Kenshin with a kind of gentle pity.

"You want her t'love you." He whistled, long and low. "Aw, shit, Kenshin. You're in deep, huh?"

Kenshin looked away. They were wandering along a river swollen by the recent storms, on the verge of overflowing its banks. Foam swirled along the surface, mixed with sticks and leaves that had been battered from trees by the rains, coursing unrelentingly towards the sea. That, at least, would never change.

"That I am," he said softly, and there was a kind of cold comfort in admitting it. Even though it could never – though he had no right to hope for such a thing.

Sano started to say something, and then a voice cried out.

"My lord!"

They turned to see one of Kenshin's men racing towards them, bowling the crowds aside. He skidded to a halt in front of them, gasping, and doubled over. Kenshin thought he recognized him – one of the Lady Kaoru's guards, Shirojo.

"What is it?" he asked, stomach knotting.

"The lady," Shirojo panted, holding out a letter folded around a scrap of blue cloth. "My lord – I swear to you…"

But whatever he was trying to say, whatever excuse or apology he was offering faded into so much background noise as Kenshin took the letter from his hands, letting the blue ribbon slide through his fingers as he read what he already knew it would say.

 _The abandoned shrine to the water god in the marshes on the eastern bank of the Sumida river. Come tonight, or the woman dies_.


	9. nor fear the wolvish howl

The wood beneath Kaoru's knees was weathered and rough: the shrine she knelt in had been abandoned for some time. She kept her back straight and her eyes fixed on the thin-faced man sitting on a rock nearby, idly smoking. Lean fingers curved around his carved wooden pipe.

"No need to glare, honored lady," he said, amused. "I don't plan to kill you."

He'd bound her like a criminal before he put her in the nondescript palanquin waiting just beyond the field. Now her hands lay clenched on her thighs, still tied with the palms facing one another, wrists rubbing raw, and Kaoru yearned as she never had before for the steady weight of a blade. She'd slit that laughing throat of his, put out his eyes – how _dare_ he threaten her sisters?

She would have told him as much, except that he'd also gagged her.

The moon had risen in the time that they'd waited, balancing gravid on the edge of the trees. He'd taken her far from the palace, to the other side of the Sumida River, and she wondered why. He didn't act like he was trying not to be found; once they'd arrived he'd taken several minutes to arrange her to his satisfaction, trying several poses before he settled her bound and kneeling like an offering. That had been some time ago, and her legs were starting to go numb.

He'd had an accomplice, also disguised as a retainer, who'd helped carry the palanquin and hadn't dared meet her eyes. Somehow they'd had the correct passes and codewords, and when she threw herself against the sides of the palanquin her kidnapper had made some joking comment about women who don't know their place and the guards had _laughed_.

The accomplice had been paid as soon as they arrived, bowing low and leaving quickly, but not before she'd heard her kidnapper's name: Black Hat. Her heart had frozen in her chest, trying to understand why the man framing her husband would kidnap her; was it a personal vendetta, then, or was this part of some larger plan?

Black Hat grinned at her.

"I just need you to draw out your husband, honored lady," he added, amiably. "After that, you're of no concern."

She couldn't respond him with the gag in her mouth, but the question must have shown in her eyes because his grin deepened, drawing back until it became almost skeletal. There were too many teeth in his mouth.

"If I take the gag out, honored lady, you might bite me." Something glinted in his eyes. "I might enjoy it."

With that, he tapped the last few embers of tobacco out of his pipe and took two long steps towards her. Kaoru quailed a little as he loomed over her, throat tight and dry. This man was not sane: she knew that as the tides knew the moon. He was all angles and sharpened edges, chuckling low to himself at nothing in particular, and his glittering eyes had a way of looking straight through her.

"That's right, honored lady," he said conversationally. "You're far too loyal a wife to bite any hand that doesn't feed you." Giggling at his own joke – if it _was_ a joke; it wasn't very funny – he untied the scrap of cotton around her head and left her to spit it out while he ambled back to his rock and began filling his pipe again.

"Forgive me, Sir Black Hat." Kaoru kept herself tall, forcing herself to speak clearly through her dry throat and cracked lips. The more she understood, the better she could predict his actions, and the more she could pretend to have some control over the situation. "But I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you're saying. Surely it would be easier to deliver a challenge in the normal manner?"

Black Hat lit his pipe with a wicked sort of chuckle, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Oh no, honored lady. You see, Lord Himura _never_ duels – not for honor, not for glory. How _dull_. Such a legendary blade… it must thirst for blood. How it must be suffering!"

He took a deep drag, blowing the smoke out in a long, pale stream. Some of it drifted towards Kaoru's face; the rich woodsy scent reminded her, horribly, of Master Oguni and the long evenings he'd spent with her father, arguing about the nature of mankind. Her father had always believed that man had the power to choose, if not his destiny, than at least how he fulfilled it. Master Oguni tended to believe otherwise: that even when a man could choose, he was still bound by the influence of those who'd raised him, good and bad, and all his life had taught him.

"So," Black Hat continued, "by kidnapping you, I deliver an insult. By threatening your life, I ensure a response. Soon we will face each other across our blades and that, ah – " he sighed then, like a pining lover, "that will be a fight worth having!"

"Is that why you were framing him for those murders?" Kaoru studied him carefully, swallowing her revulsion. He was lost in rapture, languid fingers stroking the hilt of his blade as he hummed to himself with hooded eyes. "To draw him out?"

"Hmm?" Black Hat blinked, coming out of his trance. "Oh. That. Well, I suppose Whitehair will be angry – but never mind him. The money was never the point," he explained calmly, as if they were old friends chatting on the porch. "But he could give me entrance – uniforms, passwords, all that I needed to spy and see and _know_. So there's no use trying to convince me that Lord Himura won't bother fighting for a war-bride."

Kaoru started a little, surprised by the sudden answer to her unspoken question. Her wrists throbbed dully; her legs tingled horribly as she shifted, and she swallowed hard to focus past the pain. He was working for someone else, then, and that someone would be angry at what he'd done.

Black Hat looked at her, surprise clear in his strange, elongated features, then slapped his thigh and barked out laughter. She eyed him warily. He grinned at her as if they shared some private joke.

"He's addled with you, honored lady! Or is it that you already know? I suppose that might have you looking like you sat on a thorn. How does it feel to lie each night with the man who destroyed your family? Does it hurt anew, each time you let him in – is every night like the first time he breached your maidenhead?"

He leered at her, poison in his smile. Kaoru glared back, her heart beating loud as taiko drums. and had to swallow a sudden, reflexive urge to defend Lord Himura. Because he looked at her with such longing, but he'd never so much as reached in her direction. Except for that one stormy night when he'd touched her hair and smiled, because he'd made her laugh…

 _It doesn't matter_ , Kaoru reminded herself. What mattered was the name he'd given her, offhandedly. _Whitehair_.

"Who is Whitehair?" Her voice was sharp. "And why does he want to frame Lord Himura?"

Black Hat shrugged. "The oldest reason. No concern of mine, not anymore."

"But still a concern of mine, sir." Kaoru forced herself to keep her voice even as fire spread in her veins, urged her to fight back, to shout and struggle. "I share my lord husband's fate, after all."

Black Hat found this immensely funny. He doubled over, cackling, and took another slow drag on his pipe before he answered.

"Proud thing. I can see why he's so enamored. What a thrill there must be in breaking you to bit!"

Kaoru ground her teeth, fighting for clarity as her soul howled outrage. Of course he would think that she'd – and most noble ladies would, after all. She had planned to, hadn't she? Had resigned herself to that slow death, because her clan required it.

The clan that had used her as a sacrifice but afforded her none of a sacrifice's honor…

"This is between men, honored lady." Black Hat's voice was almost kind. "And Whitehair is the sentimental type. He'll do you no harm, if he can avoid it. Just wait a while; when this is over, you'll be free of your husband and your blood-debt, too."

 _If you defeat him_ , she didn't say. Which he wouldn't. He _couldn't_ – she wanted to tell him just that, to explain in careful detail the power and the speed Lord Himura commanded, the futility of trying –

Black Hat had stopped paying attention to her. His eyes were fixed on the treeline, and the smile on his face spread slowly wider until it looked like it would split his skull in two.

"Ah," he said, rising as if to greet an old friend. "Here he comes."

~*~

Kenshin had heard it said that the men of the Western countries saw a man's face in the moon, instead of a rabbit. On a night like this, when it hung too large and heavy against a starless sky, he could almost see why; the familiar shadows on its face seemed to twist into a grinning skull, leering down on the small lives clustered below. The air was very still, and there was no fog to veil humanity's flaws from its celestial observer.

Lady Kaoru was in danger, and because of _him_. Because of his reputation, he had to assume; because of his negligence. Someone had come into the castle, to his home, and taken her. In front of her sisters. After he had promised that she would never be endangered again. It was his fault. _His fault._

The rage was a living thing inside him, hot and writhing like wildfire – that she should be threatened for his sake, because of the marriage she hadn't wanted, because of the reputation he would give anything to shed – and there'd be hell to pay come morning, when the fire was out and he faced Lady Kaoru's condemning eyes, but that was later. For now, he rode it; for now, it carried him.

His shoulder ached in warning.

The shrine the note had mentioned had been built generations ago by a merchant seeking to placate his daughter's angry spirit, and was rumored to still be haunted by her restless ghost. She had been falsely accused of some crime, and her father had not defended her; refusing to be dishonored with public execution and without a samurai's right of honorable suicide by the blade, she had drowned herself in the marsh. It was too small and isolated to draw any regular worshippers, and as the years passed it had fallen into disrepair. The supposed ghost didn't help matters.

Kenshin felt his opponent before he saw him: a cold soul, bright with anticipation and a longing that made him shudder. There was sickness there. His rage was pierced with dread as he sought further, looking for the bright spark of Lady Kaoru's spirit. There. She was frightened, but mostly she was angry, and that meant that she was probably unharmed. Whatever madness this man held was for Kenshin alone.

Lady Kaoru's kidnapper was already standing when Kenshin entered the clearing, a warm smile beaming out from his strange features.

"You _came_ ," he said, delighted. "I was beginning to worry."

"Who are you?" Kenshin's hands were clenched tight at his sides.

"Jinei Udo," the man said, bowing. "At your service, my lord. Shall we begin?" His hand dropped to his sword hilt. Kenshin bit back a snarl.

"I have no interest in fighting you," he snapped, and charged.

If he could just get between Jinei and Lady Kaoru, he could hold the man off long enough for the soldiers following him to arrive. And then he wouldn't have to kill anyone; he wouldn't have to see that awful fear of him in Lady Kaoru's eyes again.

Jinei whipped out his sword. Kenshin drew and blocked in one fluid movement, straining for a moment against his opponent's greater bulk before he bounced away, out of range. Jinei frowned.

"No, no. None of this nonsense. _Fight_ me, Himura!" He struck again. Kenshin parried. The blows came hard and fast but not quite fast enough, and after a few moments Kenshin knew all that he needed to know about Jinei's patterns and limitations. His blood quickened in his veins, heart beginning the slow rise to battle-rhythm.

A thrust would be next. Kenshin turned to one side, sliding to dodge the follow-up: a horizontal slash that missed by a good few inches. After that, Jinei would try for a vertical cleave – there.

 _Yes_.

Kenshin stepped in, hilt up, and intercepted. Jinei's blade bounced off the pommel, forcing his arm back over his head. Pain rang out from Kenshin's shoulder as the wound protested the impact; he ignored it and lunged forward into the opening, sword ready to bite if Jinei got any closer but not committing to a strike. All he wanted was to get through, to put himself between Jinei and Lady Kaoru. To protect her. It burned inside him, hot as the rage – she must not be harmed because of him, not when he'd already brought so much grief into her world.

Jinei slid to one side, laughing, and whirled around to keep his place between Kenshin and the shrine where Lady Kaoru knelt. He raised his eyes to lock on Kenshin's and _smiled_ –

The world twisted. Kenshin's breath caught, lungs frozen solid at the death in the other man's eyes. The ice crept through his veins to his heart, slowing its drumming and luring him into the cool dark where nothing would hurt, if he would only _surrender_ and stop, no need to fight any longer…

Kenshin snarled, jerking back, and broke through. Jinei giggleded, rolling his head on his shoulders as he settled into a new stance.

"Well, it was worth a try," he commented to no one in particular. He seemed content to wait while Kenshin caught his breath; his sides were heaving, too.

 _Supposed t'be able to freeze people in place with a glance_ … Sano's words drifted across Kenshin's mind, whispering through the battle-fog, and his eyes widened.

"You're the Black Hat!"

"So you know my work." His skeletal grin deepened. "Good, good. Does that make you angry, Himura? Angry enough to kill me?"

"What is this about?" Kenshin demanded, pacing slowly forward and watching for his moment. His shoulder throbbed, a steady backbeat to the rage singing in his veins. Jinei followed, sensibly enough, but as he tracked Kenshin he was taking his attention away from staying between Kenshin and Lady Kaoru. If he kept Jinei talking, maybe there would be an opening... "Why are you killing the shōgun's retainers? Why have you _kidnapped_ my _wife?_ "

Jinei shrugged, momentarily off-guard. "To draw your attention, of course."

Kenshin bolted left, racing towards Lady Kaoru, and Jinei barely interposed himself between them in time. Kenshin's fury boiled over; he ducked low, spinning on one foot to slash at Jinei's tendons –

Jinei jumped, avoiding the blow, and as he came down his knee landed squarely on Kenshin's face. Pain burst behind his eyes, lightning-bright, and he suspected by the crunch reverberating through his skull that his nose was broken. Jinei tumbled back behind Kenshin, forcing him to turn again, and in the split second that it took him to re-orient Jinei had surged to his feet and locked eyes with Lady Kaoru.

" _NO!_ "

The scream tore itself from Kenshin's throat unbidden, wild and raw, but it came too late. Lady Kaoru's eyed widened, pupils small with shock, and she clutched at her throat as she fought for air, mouth opening and closing as though she wanted to scream. He watched, helpless, as she fell slowly forward on her bound hands, unable to hold herself upright.

"What have you _done?_ "

"A stronger version of the technique I tried on you, one that stops the lungs entirely," Jinei said calmly, turning to face Kenshin. "If you can't kill me and break it, she _will_ die – so stop dancing around and fight me seriously! To the death, Himura – as all true fights should be!"

" _You…_ "

Kenshin was well past rage now, beyond pain, into the dark, clear place where there was only blood and steel. His blood pounded in his ears, louder than drums, roaring like the angry sea. The cataracted moon gazed down on them, withholding judgment or simply too far above them to bother making any. It didn't matter, not anymore; not even the fear of her bright blue eyes condemning him had any power now.

He _moved_. In the space between one heartbeat and the next he leapt at Jinei, slicing clean at his belly and leaving a bloody trail. Jinei pulled back just in time to keep it from being a killing blow and Kenshin swore, whipping around on the ball of his foot and sheathing his blade in preparation.

If Jinei wanted a true fight, he'd damn well get one. 

~*~

Kaoru couldn't breathe.

She wasn't gagged, or suffocating – her airways were clear. The air was fine and good. She just – couldn't – _breathe!_

Her chest ached, muscles trying to expand further, to suck in a little more air but there was no _further_ to expand to. She couldn't keep trying to draw the air in; some of it had to come out, and she wheezed out a slow sigh like corpse's last exhale. Not enough to clear her lungs – god, how her chest hurt – but reflex wouldn't be denied and she struggled to draw in another shallow breath, vision blurring with her tears.

Not enough. Not _enough_ – these shallow inhales and short exhales couldn't stave off death forever. Eventually she wouldn't be able to do even that; eventually she would exhale and keep going, her last breath flying from her lungs as the darkness took her –

 _No!_ she shrieked, tapping feebly at the floor of the shrine when she wanted to clench her fists and _pound_ it, sheer panic temporarily overwhelming the steady pain shooting from her raw wrists to her elbows. _I will not die here! Not like this!_

But her lungs felt like pouches overfull with water, struggling to take in just a little more, and her vision was graying with the effort of holding herself upright. Hot tears trickled down her face as she let herself fall sideways, struggling to keep her eyes open. Fighting to do something as simple as breathe.

Lord Himura's eyes fixed on her and he snarled, savage as she'd _never_ seen him, not even with the bandits. Blood streamed down his face and his eyes were pale as starlight, burning with a killing fire. Inhuman.

Black Hat – Jinei – laughed, and she struggled to hear and heed through the terror clawing at her veins. Because – because any information would be useful – and she would have time to use it – because she was _not_ going to die, not here!

"I thought she would last longer," he was saying, licking his fingers clean of the blood from the wound across his gut. "But then, perhaps she isn't fighting it."

He charged at Lord Himura; Lord Himuar's eyes widened and Jinei leapt suddenly aside, laughing uneasily as he landed.

"My, my. Eyes like that… yes, no wonder she's so eager to die."

"Enough." Lord Himura dropped into a crouch, one hand hovering over his sheathed blade. "Let's finish this."

Even his voice had changed – deeper, clipped and utterly without adornment, no gentle hesitation or careful courtesies. Jinei shifted on the balls of his feet, glancing over to her, and Lord Himura's eyes followed his.

"After all, what good will living do her?" Jinei said, softly enough that she had to strain to hear him. "She'll still be bound to _you_. Such a proud little thing. It must be killing her inside, to serve you as a dutiful wife."

Anger burst through the fear, spiking her veins. Kaoru forced herself up on her hands, clenching her fists tight enough to pierce the skin as the torn flesh on her wrists protested and the iron around her lungs clenched tighter. The sharp sting of blood welling under her nails focused her, helped clear her head of the suffocating panic as she fought for air, fought for breath to speak – because how dare he, how _dare_ he –

How dare he use her, force her to play this role in his little drama because he didn't have the courage or the skill to fight on his own – steal her breath and her power of speech and place words in her mouth to suit himself –

Lord Himura's hand twitched over his sword-hilt. He started to take a step forward, faltered, and halted where he was.

Kaoru's heart clenched. He couldn't – he couldn't possibly be affected by the bile Jinei was spewing. He had to know better; had to know that he had treated her with every honor, that he had never hurt her, not once.

"Must make for an interesting bedding, though." Jinei leered. "Tell me – does she still fight you? Is that what makes it good? Or does she only lay there now, hating you – and does that make it _better?_ "

" _Die_."

Lord Himura disappeared. A rush of air rattled the grass and he reappeared behind Jinei's back, crouching, his sword extended to one side. A second wound sighed open on Jinei's cheek, the ragged edges peeling back to expose a black-red mouth and white, white teeth.

It made his grin all the more like a deathshead.

"Missed me."

Another terrible blur and – something happened, something she couldn't quite catch but when they parted Lord Himura was down on one knee, clutching his side, and red, red blood seeped between his pale fingers. Jinei laughed, advancing on Lord Himura as he panted, trying to fight past the pain.

He resheated his sword and cast her a single, despairing glance. She caught his eyes, his pale, horrible eyes and –

They were still _his_ eyes.

She hadn't had time to notice, with the bandits. She couldn't say why she noticed _now_ , struggling to breathe with heart and lungs encased in iron, but his eyes, even now, in the midst of a killing rage, were exactly the same – the same hot desperation, the same longing, the same –

_It is unbecoming to treat one's wife with disrespect._

_One does not expect you to be happy with the situation, as it is. But, given the circumstances, one hopes – one hopes at the very least to avoid causing you further distress._

_I don't ever want to hurt or scare you._ _So you have to tell me. If I hurt or scare you. So I can fix it._

_It seems it might be easier, if we're on the same side, so it might… to understand – that is, for me to understand your explanation – one means to say._

– question, always, in his eyes. Which were falling, sliding away from hers as he turned to face Jinei with a terrible dead light shining in his eyes, his bright, strange, _beautiful_ eyes.

 _He's your partner, Kaoru. Trust him, and he'll trust you_. Her father's voice, warm and loving as she'd clung to the horse's wide, slippery back; that terrible vertigo when she'd finally stopped pulling on the reins, stopped clutching the horse's side with all her might and trusted it to _hear_ her –

_Will we fall, or fly?_

…and there was no other way to know, except to leap.

The iron around her heart shattered. She sucked in breath like a newborn child.

Then she let it go.

" _Kenshin!_ "

Lord Himura's name, the sharp-soft name she knew but had never used. His head snapped back to her, wide eyes staring; Jinei froze, gawking in astonishment, as though she was a statute that had suddenly opened its mouth to speak. As though this was the last thing that he'd expected – and wasn't that always the way when she opened her mouth and _her_ words came out, instead of the ones men put there?

"I am _not_ afraid of you, and I _don't_ hate you!" she snapped, gulping at air like a dying fish. Her chest felt _pummeled_ ; she fought through it and sat up, glaring as she caught Kenshin's eyes and held them.

"Not even a _little_ ," she said again, "and if you let this, this _jerk_ get to you – if you believe _him_ and not me – I will never _ever_ forgive you!"

Kenshin's eyes caught fire.

She saw what happened next through the haze of her pounding heart as the blood surged in her veins and time slowed, her vision growing keener. Kenshin flowed to his feet, hair flashing like wildfire in the cold moonlight, and drew his sword. Another wound opened in Jinei's side, gaping like a murder's smile. Another miss –

No.

She saw what Jinei couldn't, from his angle: Kenshin's hand gripping his sheath, whipping it after the blade – it had been a feint and an attack all in one – and as Jinei brought his sword down towards Kenshin's head he _slammed_ the sheath into Jinei's elbow with a sickening crack that echoed through the clearing like a temple bell.

Jinei screamed. Kaoru bit back a cry, stomach roiling. Her wrists throbbed.

Kenshin slammed the hilt of his sword into Jinei's stomach, into his open wound. Blood spurted under the moonlight and Jinei collapsed, falling on his knees and cradling his broken sword arm.

"… well done," he wheezed. "Ah. That was a real fight, Himura…"

"Shut up." Kenshin stood back, flicking the blood off his sword. He didn't sheathe it.

"It's an honor, really." Jinei looked up at him, smirking. "To be the first man to die in single combat with shōgun's demon…"

Kenshin ignored him. He looked at the ground for a long moment, a certain nausea in his face; then he swallowed and raised his head, turning to face Kaoru.

"My lady wife." His voice was strange: not quite emotionless, but trying very hard to be. "This man has… wronged you. What is your will?"

Kaoru's newfound breath caught, and she coughed. She looked at Jinei, huddled on the ground, lost in his vision – of being the first man to duel the shōgun's demon, the first man to die in single combat with him – and realized, abruptly, that she could take that from him. Could condemn him to a slow death, a criminal's death, and not the honorable place in legend he had envisioned.

He had disguised himself as one of the shōgun's retainers, kidnapped the wife of a high-ranking lord, threatened her with death. Jinei was going to die; like the bandits, the only mercy she could grant him was a swift death here and now, and not a long one in the stinking pit outside the jail where criminals and traitors went to rot. If she chose to give him that mercy, that place in history.

If she chose.

He had threatened her sisters.

She looked back at Kenshin, standing calmly with his sword at ready. Too calmly – he was hiding something, some terrible struggle, and she searched his face for some sign of his inner feelings.

"One would not presume to take this choice from you," he said softly, as if he could read her mind. "That I would not." And his eyes were so gentle, even pale with battle-fire.

Her choice. Always her choice, with him: even here, when his rights had been offended, too. Even now, as the blood seeped into his clothes from the wounds he'd earned defending her. He could decide for them; he had the right, as her husband, as her overlord, to claim himself as the wounded party and ignore her wishes.

But he wasn't. He never had.

Kaoru closed her eyes and breathed deep.

Then she opened them.

"Kill him," she said, and words felt alien in her mouth. Kenshin nodded, once: then he turned, sword flashing, and Jinei's head rolled on the ground.

And it wasn't like the bandits at all, because she made herself watch this time.

~*~

It took more presence of mind than Kenshin thought he had to remember to sheathe his sword, and not just drop it in the bloody grass before he ran the few feet to Lady Kaoru's side. His head was pounding in time with his heart, sick with uncertain hope because she'd seen him at his worst and she _wasn't_ cringing away, wasn't looking at him with her bright eyes full of fear. Because he'd asked – and she'd made the choice, she _had_ , had looked at him and not been afraid –

She was shaking when he reached her, propped up on her bound hands with her hair half-undone by her struggles to breathe. He wrapped his arms around her, unthinking, running his hands over her back and arms to prove to himself that this was real, she was here and whole and unharmed except for the slight shiver in her breathing. Her words reverberated in him, shimmering in his blood and brain and bone, arcing like quicksilver across every nerve.

_I'm not afraid of you and I don't hate you! Not even a little!_

Not afraid. _Alive_ – warm and gloriously, miraculously alive, all soft flesh and thudding heartbeat as she leaned into him, accepting his embrace. Leaned against his wounded shoulder, which rapidly re-asserted itself with a scream of pain, but he pushed it aside – and the dull throb of his definitely broken nose – because she was more important.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, finally pulling away to cup her face with his shaking hands. Her eyes were wide, shocked – but not afraid, not resenting his moment of weakness, his need to touch and hold and _know_ that she was safe. Even though he was covered in blood; even though he'd run nearly mad with rage in front of her.

Lady Kaoru shook her head.

"No, not seriously – my wrists, though – and my chest aches a little but I'm alright."

"Your wrists – "

She held them up. They were raw, under the ropes, and he touched the bonds gently, heart aching. His fault.

"It's not that bad," she said quickly. "I've had worse just training – "

"Please, permit me." He fumbled in his sleeves and at his belt. "One surely has a knife here, somewhere."

Or he'd simply have to use his short sword. Which would still be too long for comfort, but he wanted her _out_ of those wretched ropes – and where the _hell_ were Sano and the men he'd sent for?

"I have one," she said, and then flushed. "Only, um – I can't quite reach it, and it's sort of – "

"My lord!"

Hoofbeats pounded against the grass as Shirojo and a small contingent of men rode up to the shrine, the horses balking at the smell of blood. Sano was running alongside; he'd never liked horses. He jogged up to Kenshin's side, casting a quick eye over the scene as Shirojo dismounted, gesturing for everyone to stay as they were. Mouse was with them, saddled and riderless, and she promptly fought her way to the front of the ranks, snapping irritably at anyone who tried to stop her. He almost smiled to see it.

"Horse seemed t'know somethin' was wrong." Sano spoke quietly, for only Kenshin to hear. "Damn near broke down her stall door tryin' t'get out. Seemed easier t'bring her than leave her."

"That's hardly surprising, it is," Kenshin murmured back, with a certain irony, and raised his voice. "It's over!" he said. "Both this incident, and the murders of Lord Tokugawa's retainers – that man," and he gestured to Jinei's corpse, "was responsible for both, so he was. It seems he wished to draw one's attention…"

Sano snorted, and Kenshin elbowed him – earning a spike of pain from his shoulder – before he could say anything else. Lady Kaoru sucked in a startled breath behind them.

"Is the honorable lady unhurt?" Shirojo asked, face pale and drawn – as well it should be, since he was among those responsible for her safety.

"I'm _fine_ ," she snapped. "Would someone get these ropes off me, please?"

Sano handed him a dagger and Kenshin cut quickly through the bonds. They fell away, slightly sticky with blood from the shallow rope-burns. Lady Kaoru touched them lightly, wincing. Then she braced one hand against the wooden shrine and tried to pull herself to her feet. She stumbled, a little.

"Here." Kenshin offered his arm, holding out his hand for her to take and angling his good shoulder so that it could bear her weight. A muscle in her jaw jumped and she moved very slowly, taking her time. He let her have it.

She staggered when she finally made it down, leaning too heavily on him, and he whistled at Mouse to spare her the walk. The mare ambled over, shaking her mane.

"Will you be able to ride in your kimono?" he asked, more concerned for her physical state but guessing by the determined set of her jaw that she would refuse any futher help on that account. Her clothing made for a good excuse: it was almost impossible to ride normally in kimono without hakama and maintain any semblance of modesty.

"…probably not," she said, and there was a certain relief in her eyes. "Would you…?"

He nodded and mounted first, leaning over to pick her up with Sano's help and settle her before him, her legs draping awkwardly over the saddle. It couldn't be comfortable, but the ride would be short and it was that or carry her – because there was no way that he was going to let her walk in her condition, and none of the men had thought to bring a palanquin.

She leaned into his chest, balancing herself with one hand on his good arm, and he allowed himself to put his other arm loosely around her waist, to take a warm satisfaction in having her close and knowing that she was safe. He didn't need both hands to handle Mouse; the mare was sensible, and she knew the way home. Besides, cradling Lady Kaoru was about all his bad arm was up to, at the moment. He'd need to see the doctor again.

It wasn't enough to drown out the echo of fear or make him forget that none of this would have happened to her if not for him, for his damned reputation – but it calmed his racing heart and cleared his mind to have her near.

"Are you steady?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"Let's go home, please." Her voice was thick, slightly ragged, and her grip on his arm grew slightly firmer.

"As you wish, honored wife."

He tightened his arm around her just a hair, and nudged Mouse forward.

~*~

Kaoru's eyes were closed when they finally came home, the better to hide the tears forming in her eyes. It was stress, that was all; stress and horror as the full weight of what had happened seeped into her bones. She had come so very close to dying.

Kenshin's arm was a solid weight across her hips. Not an unpleasant one. He was warm against her back, and the curve of his upper arm as it reached past her to guide Mouse's reins was easy to rest her head against. If some moisture had leaked from her tight-shut eyes to his shirt, he wasn't likely to notice.

He smelled like blood, but it didn't bother her.

The pain in her wrists beat in time with her heartbeat, with the steady ache in each rise and fall of her chest. Her legs were starting to come back to life, itching in protest. And she welcomed it, all those different, unpleasant sensations, because they meant that she was alive and breathing, that she had not died in those few frantic minutes when her body had been stolen from her.

Her eyes were closed, but she was still mostly aware of her surroundings. Shirojo and the men had fallen in around them, forming a tight perimeter, and Kenshin's friend – the strange man who dressed like a traveling monk but didn't act like one – kept an easy pace beside them. He and Kenshin spoke softly to one another, one or twice, but she couldn't make out what they were saying and didn't care to try.

Mouse came to a halt.

"Honored wife." Kenshin's voice was rough with exhaustion. "We've returned."

"Oh," she murmured, and blinked her eyes opened. "Good." She slid down Mouse's side without waiting, her skirts catching around her legs but not enough to be indecent, and leaned heavily against the mare's side to keep herself from falling. The mare leaned back, warm and solid as her rider.

She heard Kenshin dismount behind her and then he was at her back, touching her shoulder lightly. Kaoru almost turned, but her head was aching and her legs were weak, and she would need every ounce of strength just to make it to her room without collapsing.

"Shirojo, will you fetch the doctor, please?" Kenshin's voice, quiet and strangely commanding.

"He's already on his way," She knew without looking that Shirojo's face was absolutely still. It got that way when he was upset – and he had every right to be. She _knew_ better – she'd told the guards to stay too far away, like an _idiot_ , and good men would be punished for her foolishness.

"That's good, so it is. Honored wife?"

She forced down the lump in her throat and looked at him. Kenshin offered her his good arm and she took it carefully, wary of her aching wrists. His eyes shadowed, glancing down at them, and his face grew tight as they made their way slowly into the house.

It was easier to let him guide her, so she did, and sank gratefully down onto the cushion in her – no, not her room. _His_ room, she realized abruptly as he left her to rummage in a chest of drawers. The door to his study was open and she could see the desk where they had sat together a little over a full day ago, close but not quite touching. Kaoru stared at it as though she'd never seen one before, and heat welled up again behind her eyes.

She looked around his room in an effort to distract herself. It was as empty as his study, really: clean and neat as a guest-room, as a place where no really _lived_. As if he was just passing through.

The alcove next to her held a narrow scroll and a vase with a single iris resting at a slant, slashing green and blue against the pale, clean wall. A child's top rested against it, weathered with age and use; not merely decorative, although it would be a very strange person who counted a child's toy as decoration. It was such an incongruously personal thing to see in a room so devoid of personality that her gaze lingered on it despite herself, counting the chips in its once-bright paint.

"May one see your wrists, honored wife?"

Kaoru started. Kenshin was kneeling before her, bandages and a small compact in his hands. He'd wiped most of the blood from his broken nose off his face, except for a trace at the corner of his mouth. But he hadn't done anything about the wound in his side – though it seemed to have stopped bleeding, at least, since the bloodstain on his clothes hadn't gotten any bigger.

"Your wounds," she started to say. "The doctor – "

"One's own wounds can wait," he said firmly, and took her hands from her lap. "Please – this much, at least…"

Kenshin's voice trailed off as he searched her face, his strange eyes alight with something that she thought she could name, now. His throat worked, and his grip on her hands tightened. Not painfully. She felt as though some warm pulse traveled from his palms to her body, easing the ache in her chest.

"Please," he said again. She swallowed.

"Fine," she said, raising her chin. "But you had better see the doctor tonight."

He almost smiled.

"As my lady wife commands," he murmured softly, and let go of her hands to open the compact. She felt a little colder for their loss.

The salve inside was yellow and smelled astringently sweet. He scooped out a generous portion and smeared it gently over her wrists. She tensed at first, expecting a sting; but the balm was cool and numbing against the hot, aching sores, and his fingers were very gentle. Soon the throbbing pain receded and he held her arm delicately as he wrapped her wrists in bandages, like he was afraid the she might break.

When he was done he took her hands again and sat for a long moment, head bowed as his thumbs traced thoughtless circles over the backs of her hands. His callouses caught on her skin, sending odd little shivers up her arms.

"It seems that one must beg your forgiveness again, that I must," he said at long last, and his voice was caught and tearing on some unseen hook. "It seems that one is always begging your forgiveness."

"It wasn't your fault." Too honest, maybe, but anything less seemed a sacrilege right now. The wind picked up, rattling the eaves, and the air smelled of rain. The lamp glowed softly, rounding out the shadows in his room. "I – if I'd had the guards keep a tighter perimeter, this wouldn't have happened. They would have known something was wrong. I just," and she swallowed again, unable to rid herself of the lump in her throat. "I wasn't thinking."

"Why didn't you raise an alarm, when he took you?" Kenshin asked, still not raising his head. Kaoru shuddered, remembering.

"He threatened my sisters," she said softly, staring at their joined hands.

Her fingers tightened, trying to clench into fists at the memory – Jinei's too-calm, nearly cheerful voice, his dark, wild eyes. _Scream, and I will kill your sisters_. Some of the old fear raised its head, reflexively, that Kenshin might say that she should have screamed anyway – risked her sisters' death rather than dishonor herself with capture – but it faded into nothing behind the quieter conviction that he, of all people, would understand.

His hands curled around hers, responding, and he lifted them a little as if to clasp them to his heart.

"Might one beg a favor of you?" he asked, very quietly.

"I… suppose." Her heart skipped, briefly. "It depends on what it is."

"Should this situation arise again," he began, carefully, thumbs stroking restlessly over her skin. "And one will do everything possible to ensure that it does not – but if it should – one would ask you, please – to make the same choice."

"What do you mean?"

He lifted his head, then, and his eyes were almost too much to bear: bright and shimmering, the color of hydrangeas in a storm, and pleading with her for the something that – for the first time – she thought it might not kill her to give.

"Live, honored wife." He nearly whispered it, as though there was something holy in the words. "Whatever happens, whatever becomes necessary – so long as you are alive, I will find you. I will come for you. I swear it. I will always, _always_ come for you."

"Kenshin…"

She didn't mean to say his name; it slipped out unbidden, called by the desperation in his eyes. He shuddered to hear it, his grip tight and warm around hers. She slid one of her hands free from that small embrace, reaching out for him. Her fingertips settled lightly near his mouth, over the blood that lingered there, and she slowly wiped it away. His eyes slid shut as he leaned into her touch, almost frowning. As if it hurt, but so wonderfully that he didn't dare pull away…

"I – " she started to say, wanted to reassure him, and then the door banged open. In a heartbeat he had dropped her hands and moved a good half a foot away, making space for her sisters to come flying into the room and throw themselves at her with high-pitched wails. She wrapped her arms around them, soothing them and stroking their hair, and by the time they calmed down he had retreated into the hall, no more than a dark shadow through the ricepaper.

~*~

It took Kaoru and Tae the better part of an hour to get Ayame and Suzume to calm down enough to go to bed, and even then they insisted on holding Kaoru's hands until they were completely asleep. Kaoru knelt at the head of their futon, one hand for each girl, until their breathing evened and she was sure that they would stay asleep. Only then did she gently pull her hands away.

"I should sleep in here, tonight," she said quietly. "Tae, could you…?"

She turned to see that Tae had already brought a pile of bedding in while Kaoru was busy with her sisters. Now she folded it out, carefully, and the calm precision of her movements told Kaoru that something was bothering the older woman.

"What is it?"

Tae was silent for a moment before she answered.

"Concerning your lord husband…" she started to say.

"Oh, _Tae_." Kaoru pinched the bridge of her nose, breathing in the faint smell of the salve he'd treated her wrists with. "Not now – "

"It isn't what you think." Tae shook her head, smoothing out the blanket. "I – he shed blood for you, tonight, when he had no need to. Among other things… you were right, my lady. He is not a bad man."

She finished with the blankets and folded her hands on her lap, looking up.

"I think he may love you. Or at least, he desires you enough to think it love."

"Is there a difference?" Kaoru frowned, tracing one hand over her bandages, remembering. He'd been so gentle, and warmer than she'd remembered; like a hearth-fire when the world outside was freezing snow. Not the dizzying, devouring heat she'd feared.

"Oh yes." Tae's voice echoed with something dark and deep, like the water under a frozen lake. "There is a very great difference, my lady. Desire is founded in illusion: if a man only desires a woman, then he does not desire _her_ , but only what she represents to him – wealth, power, status, and so on. Love is something different. Love is…"

She closed her eyes for a moment and looked suddenly very old. She was old – she'd served Kaoru's mother before she served Kaoru. But Kaoru had never seen her look her age until now, had never noticed the fine lines at her mouth and eyes.

She looked exhausted.

"Truth is the enemy of desire," Tae continued, looking past Kaoru and through her, with a strange and haunted stare. "It cannot withstand the knowledge that the object of your desire is human, a creature of flesh and blood with all the sins that accompany that. But love – truth is love's ally. If you love someone, then they become all the more precious for their flaws; if you love someone, the truth can never frighten you away."

Tae bowed, then, and stood.

"So I would caution you, my lady, whatever you choose – know, before you do, whether it is love or desire that lies between you and your lord husband."

Another bow, and she left. Kaoru went to bed but did not sleep for a long, long while.

When she finally slept she dreamed of her parents' garden, in Hito: she dreamed of it in the dead of winter, blanketed in snow, the small pond frozen and the carp nestled sleeping in the mud, waiting for spring. She dreamed of child's top falling from her hands, cracking the ice; she dreamed that the crack spread until it touched the roots of the maple tree, which shivered once and put forth a single, bright green bud. Such a small thing, sure to die in such a cold, dead garden, and she thought that she should go and warm it but she couldn't seem to move.

She woke with her hand outstretched and tear tracks on her cheeks.


	10. the thing with feathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sumbitch is 15k long - almost twice my usual length. You will enjoy. I promise.
> 
> All biographical details contained herein are basically accurate. I've taken some liberty in the description and in guessing how Ieyasu felt about them - although we have some evidence that he really did feel bad about the whole thing with his son - but the facts themselves are completely true.
> 
> Have fu~un

"My lord." The priest bowed low, forehead touching the matting where he knelt. "This lowly self is honored by this audience."

"It's no trouble, that it's not," Kenshin said mildly. "Since you came this far…"

Though it had been a surprise to see the young priest at his doorstep. One of the two who had accompanied the foreigner, back in Hito; this was the younger one, the farmer's son. _Ma-te-o_ , as he'd been renamed. Another strange point of similarity between himself and the youngster. Taken from his home and renamed, for the sake of talent he had not asked for…

"How can one assist you?" Kenshin folded his arms inside his sleeves. The priest's arrival, though unexpected, was not an unwelcome distraction, given the business he was putting off dealing with. The men who'd guarded Lady Kaoru – and his heart clenched a little, to think of what had happened and what might have been – had failed in their charge. It was his duty to punish them.

He was starting to hate his duties.

They were under house arrest, pending his decision. Several had already petitioned him for the right to suicide for their honor's sake. It was either grant their request and order the rest to follow or turn them out, leaving them dishonored and their families without income. Perhaps another lord might take them on, perhaps they could find other work somewhere, but…

Kenshin stifled a sigh. The priest lowered his head.

"Truthfully, my lord, it is this I who must ask how this lowly self might serve you. My superior, noting your interest in the Christian religion, thought to send me to offer myself into your service."

It was a clear, lovely day, the first one in ages, and the outer doors stood open to admit the warm, rain-washed air. A shriek of laughter pierced the still summer air; one of the girls, on the other side of the house. A break in their lessons, perhaps.

"Forgive my confusion, but why would one need the services of a priest?" Kenshin's brows drew down as he searched the youngster's face, looking for the agenda. Everyone had one, as the incident with Black Hat had so painfully reminded him. And he could no longer afford to hold himself above politics.

"It is a tenant of the Christian faith, my lord, that all men have need of a priest's services – whether they know it or not." There was a strange look in the priest's eye, too urgent for the light tone in his voice. "The previous lord occasionally found it useful to consider foreign perspectives on certain issues or events. Although this lowly self was born Japanese, I have spent some years among the foreigners; I speak their language and understand their customs."

The priest paused, then, tension lining his face.

"Priests learn much, my lord – and it is the utmost and sincere desire of my superior that the knowledge we have gathered be placed at my lord's disposal. Should you wish it to be so."

"One… takes your meaning," Kenshin said slowly, still not entirely sure that he _did_ – but there was certainly some kind of hidden message here. "That I do."

Was he suggesting that the foreign priests had an intelligence network? Well, they probably did, it only made sense… so given that, was he then insinuating that Kenshin was being offered access to it?

It couldn't be that simple.

"For example," the priest continued, a light flush suffusing his face. "Forgive this lowly one's forwardness, but word of the incident with the Black Hat has spread throughout the city. This is an example of an incident where the previous lord might have sought counsel with my superior."

"In what sense?" Keep asking questions, that was the trick. Kenshin had seen Lord Tokugawa do it a hundred times; the more you forced someone to explain, the more flustered they'd get, and eventually they would brush too close to the truth and reveal the shape of it.

"Well…" The flush had not faded, although the priest didn't seem to be _embarrassed_ , precisely. More determined than anything else; his spirit fairly crackled with it. "My superior might have begged the previous lord to consider the fates of the families of those guards who failed in their charge. He might have counseled mercy – that, for the sake of their wives and children, they be neither expelled from the clan nor ordered to suicide, but given some other punishment and a second chance."

"Why?"

"Because humanity is sinful by nature, my lord." The priest bowed again. "Forgive this unworthy one, but this is a tenant of the Christian faith with which my superior has ordered me to counsel my lord. All human beings born to this earth are flawed and made distant from God by our imperfections. Yet God is merciful, and through His love even the greatest sinner might be redeemed and stand, whole and worthy, in His light."

The priest took a deep breath and raised his head a little. His words sounded rehearsed, like something he had read and memorized long ago.

"Therefore, it is right and good to be merciful, as God Himself is merciful: to practice here on earth the mercy and compassion that is the spark of the Divine within our breasts, our sole connection to the God whom we are so cruelly severed from."

He looked up a bit further, and his eyes were fierce.

"There is no sin, no crime, no evil so great that it cannot be forgiven, if the sinner repents with a sincere heart."

There was a second meaning here, too – a significance to the priest's sudden speech that Kenshin couldn't quite grasp. Yet the words struck a chord in him, beyond the anxious snap in the priest's spirit that warned him that his words were more than they appeared. A slow note, regal and serene, like a morning glory unfurling in the low dawn light.

"If only it were that easy," Kenshin murmured, and didn't realize that he'd spoken aloud.

"It can be, my lord." The priest sat up fully, resting his hands on his thighs. "Others may say otherwise – others may demand blood for blood, and life for life. And yes, penance must be paid. But it need not be death or disgrace, my lord." Again, his face was peculiarly intense, too intense even for proselytization. He was trying to say something without saying it, and Kenshin could not for the life of him figure out what it was.

The Lady Kaoru's voice rang out, calling in sudden urgency: then there was a scuffling crash and a high-pitched wail, soon calmed. He wanted her with him, suddenly, with her fierce blue eyes and her proud chin, her keen and fearless mind. It was a physical ache, like hunger or thirst.

"It is my superior's belief, my lord," the priest said again, speaking very carefully, "that _no_ man should live without mercy."

 

~*~

The priest's audience ended shortly after that. He'd delivered whatever message it was that he'd come to deliver, and the rest of the conversation had been mild pleasantries winding down to an uncertain finish. Kenshin had offered the priest hospitality, as a courtesy; he'd accepted gratefully, and Kenshin had seen him tucked safely in a corner of the entirely-too-large manor.

Then he'd gone in search of Lady Kaoru.

She was with her sisters, watching them play marbles from the porch in the small courtyard at the center of the private quarters. Suzume was winning, by the look on Ayame's face. He wasn't completely sure, never having played the game himself; only the older children had played marbles in his village, and he'd been apprenticed before they allowed him to join them. Afterwards, of course, he hadn't had the time – or anyone to play with.

The girls were absorbed in their game and didn't notice him padding softly onto the porch. Lady Kaoru did, though, turning and beginning to stand as he approached.

"Honored husband."

"One doesn't mean to disturb you," he said quickly, his heart clenching at the sight of her. She was wearing her hair in the simple tail that she preferred, held in place by a bright blue ribbon. Her kimono was a deep red with a subtle, golden pattern around the hem, vaguely familiar. Dragons, he realized, with a jolt: the same abstracted beasts that adorned his own crest. The _exact_ same – and his head got a little light at that, as he understood why he recognized her kimono.

He'd sent it to her as a bridal gift, once the engagement was announced. Because it was custom. Or, well, someone else had sent it, and he'd given his approval. He'd barely glanced at it, certain in the knowledge that no garment could soften the impact of what was happening to her…

He hadn't thought that it would hurt so much to see her freely wearing his colors and his sigil. It did, though; hurt so wonderfully that he didn't dare breathe, in case it stopped.

"It's not a disturbance," Lady Kaoru said quietly, pausing halfway to her feet. "We're having a little break right now – Ayame hates mathematics, so it helps if she can do something fun afterwards." She smiled at her sisters, small and indulgent, and Kenshin swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. "It's Suzume's best subject, even though she's young, but she always copies Ayame. So if Ayame doesn't like math, then…" She shrugged, rueful.

"May one join you?" He kept his arms tucked inside his sleeves, his fingers gripping hard at his elbows. "If it's not an imposition, that is."

"Sure." Lady Kaoru sank back down on the porch, moving over a little to make space for him and patting the porch beside her. A small, careless gesture – yet she had never yielded ground to him, not once. Never invited him.

Kenshin lowered himself gingerly down and they watched the girls play, wrapped in a companionable silence. Suzume made a very clever throw – knocking several marbles out of the ring at once – and Ayame flounced back on her heels, crossing her arms with an irritated moue. Lady Kaoru giggled.

He was so close to her, close enough that her hand, braced against the porch, was almost touching his side. Close enough that he could feel her warmth, that she was alive and here, and even a full week after the horror of the duel and the moment when he'd looked past Jinei to see her fighting for air it still struck him as a miracle.

_I am not afraid of you, and I don't hate you! Not even a little!_

He'd held her hands in his, and she'd wiped the blood from his face – just like after the bandits, her touch searing and absolving him. Her hands were so small, and so strong. Not as rough as his, perhaps, but she'd used a sword all her life and it showed in her hands' confidence, in the tough callouses that arced across her palms and the joints of her fingers. Good hands.

There had been a part of him that had wanted to sleep at her feet like a dog keeping watch; he'd settled for sitting in the hall outside her door, barely dozing and snapping awake at the slightest sound, not caring how little sleep he was getting or that the doctor had told him to rest himself. Not when she had come so close – when he had nearly failed her, when he had almost – again – been too slow, too _stupid_ to protect the one person who most needed protecting.

He'd made sure to be gone long before she woke up.

There had been a great deal of explanations and paperwork to get through, afterwards, and Kenshin rather suspected that if Lady Kaoru hadn't been there to help him he would still be dealing with it. Now, though, the only remaining fallout was the fate of the guards who'd allowed her to be captured, and that was a subject he hadn't dared broach. They had been her father's men, people she had known from childhood. And she was samurai, and she knew what the penalty was – but that didn't give him the right to ask her approval to condemn men who had served her father faithfully. That was his burden.

She hadn't been troubled by Jinei's fate, but… that was different. As much as he might want her to give him permission, to tell him that it was all right, that she understood – he couldn't ask that of her, not in this.

"Did your audience with Brother Mateo go well?"

He started a little when Lady Kaoru spoke, wrenching his thoughts out of the gloom. She had turned to face him, not quite leaning back against the porch pillar, and her steadfast eyes were curious.

"One is… not entirely sure, that I'm not," he admitted, trying not to squirm in remembered discomfort. "He was somewhat cryptic, that he was."

"Oh?" She blinked, turning to look out across the courtyard. It was a small space, holding only a half-grown lilac tree and a shallow pool of water lined with stones, too shallow for more than frogs to live in it. One little green fellow hopped up on a rock and croaked as he settled down to bask in the sun. "Father did always say you had to be careful with them…"

Her hands fidgeted in her lap, and he wanted very badly to hold them again, to clasp them to his heart and raise them to his lips, to kiss each delicate tip of her fingers.

"One has no real experience with foreigners." He hoped that he didn't sound as embarrassed as he felt. "It seems, though, that your father spoke with them often?"

"He did." She smiled a little, soft and sad. "He always said that there wasn't any harm in them, so long as you keep them in line. Give them a little land to build their temples on and freedom to practice that religion of theirs and they're more useful than not."

"Keep them in line?"

She nodded. "They think they're subtle, see?" she explained, and that _glow_ began to suffuse her features, the one that lit her face whenever she was instructing and made him feel like a child again, dreaming in a sunbeam. "Like children. If you let them think they're stealing a march on you, they'll be perfectly content to spin out little intrigues and leave the rest alone."

"Oh." Kenshin ducked his head, face heating. "One does not have much of a head for intrigue. Or politics. That I don't."

"Well, what did the priest say?"

Lady Kaoru pulled her legs up onto the porch, kneeling to face him at right angles, and her voice took on a teacherly tone. It was beautiful to see, the unconscious shift in her demeanor, how she sharpened and sat taller. Her brittle pride, her grief, her wary rage all burned away like rice paper before her absolute certainty. This was, he thought, the way that she should _always_ be: a votive flame, dancing bright against the dark.

He repeated their conversation to her, as fully as he could. She listened intently, biting at her lower lip until it reddened.

"I see," she murmured to herself when he was finished. "You invited him to stay?"

Kenshin nodded, uncertain. "Was that wrong?"

There was a certain shade in her eyes when she answered.

"No… though you really should be careful. He _was_ offering to share information with you, but the foreigners have their own ideas, and anything he gives you should be checked against your own sources. Leads, rather than absolute truth. You know?"

Her eyes searched his, still a little shadowed. Still not quite certain that she was welcome.

Kenshin nodded again, more firmly this time, and wished that he could convince her. But he didn't have the right – he could only show her that he _wanted_ her guidance, and hope that she would come to trust him.

He'd been right in one thing, then. And it would naturally follow, wouldn't it, that the priests might try to control him through information. Not something he would have concluded on his own, not right away, but it was simple enough once she pointed it out.

"Thank you, honored wife," he murmured. "It – one is always glad to have your counsel, that I am," he fumbled, unable to stop himself from smiling. "There is much that one does not know – and one wishes, very much, to do no harm to Hito." _Or to you_ , he added silently, because to hurt one was to hurt the other; she was tied to the land in her blood and bone.

"About that…" Lady Kaoru's eyes slide away, and the shadow in them deepened. "I… heard that the men who were guarding me that day are still under house arrest."

"Ah. Yes." He swallowed, gut tightening. "So they are."

"Have you made a decision?"

"Not… yet, honored wife." He didn't _want_ to make a decision, even though there was only one that he could make: whether to spare their lives and destroy their honor, or grant them death and redeem it.

"It was _my_ fault," she said quietly, head bowed. "I'm more to blame than they are. If I hadn't ordered them to stay so far away, they would have seen… and I know they should have ignored my order!" she nearly cried, responding to an objection that he hadn't made. "But they didn't, and _I_ gave it, so it's my responsibility."

Kenshin held himself very still, to avoid leaping to any conclusions.

"Do you have counsel in this matter, also?"

She flushed.

"I know it's not – done – but my father – well, my father always said that if a man fails once, he should be given a second chance. People don't forget that, when you lift them up instead of casting them down. It makes them loyal. I know it sounds odd, weak even, but it works and – and it's what Hito's used to. It's not like with the bandits, or Black Hat." She seemed to be speaking mostly to herself, now. "Those crimes were too severe, they had to be punished with death. It's not that you should just forgive them," she added, too quickly. "But you don't _have_ to – you can cut their salaries and demote them. You don't have to order their suicides. You _can_ show mercy." Her throat worked. "If you want."

 _Penance must be paid_. The priest's words echoed, queerly mirrored in Lady Kaoru's faltering plea. _But it need not be death or disgrace_.

_No man should live without mercy._

"If this is your will," he said carefully, his voice faint and distant through the buzzing in his ears. "One would – truthfully – prefer such a solution. That I would."

Not for the practical reasons that she'd offered, the ones that barely hid the disquiet written in her soul. For what he thought, perhaps, might be her _true_ reasons – that there had been enough death for the Black Hat's sake, enough lives destroyed to secure his precious legend. And she did not wish to add to that man's retinue.

Neither did he.

"Very much so," he murmured, and couldn't help leaning a little towards her, any more than a blossom could help growing towards the sun.

"Good." She wrapped her arms around herself, holding herself a little too tightly. "I'm glad."

Suzume shrieked in victory. Ayame glared at the empty ring as if she could somehow will things to be otherwise, rolling her shooter between her fingers and pouting.

"Anyway, um…" Lady Kaoru cleared her throat. "Did you know, there's going to be a festival tonight? Here on the grounds. For Tanabata."

"Tanabata?" Kenshin blinked. "Oh – that." He'd heard chatter about it, and dimly recalled signing some kind of form giving most of the servants leave to attend.

She nodded. "I thought that, perhaps, if you're not occupied – the girls really want to go, you see, and they'd love it if you came. They're very fond of you."

 _And their elder sister?_ he didn't ask. He wasn't sure, still, if he had the right to know. The right to even hope…

But here she was, wearing his bridal gift, counseling him – so maybe…

"One would be honored," he said softly.

 

~*~

"Hurry, hurry!" Ayame tugged on Kaoru's hand, straining towards the brightly-colored booth and the crowd of children in front of it. "I wanna catch a fish!"

"Shouldn't we wait until it's time to go home?" Kaoru laughed, digging in her heels. "Do you really want to carry a fish all evening?"

"But if we wait they'll all be gone!" Ayame fairly wailed.

"All gone, gone!" Suzume joined in, clenching her fists and stomping her feet in time with her older sister.

"I'm sure that won't happen," Kaoru said, glancing over at Kenshin for confirmation. He gave her a startled look, lips parted slightly as if he'd been about to say something. Then he seemed to reconsider.

"It's true," he said to the girls. "One is quite sure that they've brought more than enough fish to last out the evening, that I am."

"But…"

"Look, Ayame," Kaoru chimed in, pointing. "Fire jugglers!"

Ayame gasped and took off, Suzume toddling behind. Kaoru and Kenshin followed, careful to keep the girls in sight.

"Ayame would have forgotten the poor thing somewhere, or broken the bag," Kaoru explained to him, quietly. "We'll come back after she's calmed down a bit."

"Ah." Kenshin nodded his understanding. His eyes were bright, and a small smile played across his face as he watched Ayame help her sister through the crowd in front of the juggler's platform. "They're very lively, that they are."

"…it's been a while since they could just have fun," Kaoru said quietly. "I know they seem carefree but… it's been a while."

The last time they gone to a festival had been before the war, when Father was still alive. It had been proper festival, not this palace affair: the shōgun's festival was more a party than anything else, with hired entertainers and the food and game stalls run by servants, and no charge for any of it. There were a few, carefully-vetted merchants selling goods of far better quality than would normally be at this kind of thing, and the evening was slated to end with a special event: a fire-flower display imported from China.

And no one had whispered, when they walked with Father. There had been no sideways glances or quick steps aside, no inexplicable bubble surrounding their little family as everyone tried too hard not to meet their eyes. Respect, yes: he had been the lord, after all. But no one had feared him, not the way the festival-goers feared Kenshin – even though they were, technically, his peers.

She raised her chin a little, feeling their stares. _Let_ them stare. It was their own fault if they couldn't see what was right in front of their eyes.

"One is glad to see them happy, that I am." Kenshin asked, with that strange note in his voice. His throat worked slightly, and he looked away. "And – are you, as well? Enjoying the festival, that is." He reddened a little as he said it, glancing back at her.

She thought, for a moment, about telling him the whole truth. How different it was, and how strange. How much she missed her father, her home, and how the festival – bright and loud and not quite right, not quite what she remembered – made her wish, almost, that things weren't what they were. That she had met him in some other way, some _better_ way: that there wasn't the terrible gulf of her father's death and her uncle's betrayal between them.

But he was looking at her with such shy hope that the words died in her throat, unspoken. Instead, she smiled.

"I am, honored husband," she told him, fingering the sleeve of her scarlet robe. His colors, and his crest: she'd received the gift with all due courtesy and sworn never to let it touch her skin.

She'd sworn a lot of things, before she'd met him.

"Come on." Kaoru tugged once at his sleeve, catching the fabric between her ring and forefinger. "Hurry up, or we'll lose track of the girls."

~*~

The juggler kept her sisters enthralled for a good quarter hour before they darted off to the next colorful distraction. His act was half-acrobatic, the performer dancing and leaping among the flames as if they were no more than colorful streamers, once passing the comet-trail of his baton so close over his head that Kaoru gasped and shrunk back towards Kenshin, certain that the man was going to set himself on fire. Kenshin started, and she could swear that she felt his heart beat faster: then he leaned in and murmured to her, touching two fingers lightly to her clothed elbow. His touch sent a jolt through her – a nice jolt, like rounding the corner to see an old friend come for an unexpected visit – and she wanted, suddenly, to lean against him.

"Do you see? There, at the corner of the stage, behind that screen. There's a young man with a bucket of water back there, in case something should go wrong."

"Oh." Kaoru craned her head, feeling a bit silly, and saw what he was talking about. "I knew that."

"One has a slightly different view, that's all," he said apologetically. The warmth in his voice made her chest ache. "It's a bit difficult to notice from where you are, that it is."

"Big sister!" Ayame wove through the crowd, dragging Suzume behind her. "Suzume wants to see the puppets, let's go!"

"Puppets!" Suzume caroled, raising her arms to Kenshin. "Ride!"

"Ride?" Kenshin knelt down, bewildered, and Suzume threw her arms around his neck.

" _Ride!_ " she insisted. He laughed and gathered her in his good arm, hoisting her up to see over the crowd.

"Is that what you wanted?" he asked, and she nodded ferociously before leaning her head on his shoulder. Ayame wormed her way between Kenshin and Kaoru, grabbing each of their hands in hers.

"Let's go!"

"Yes, yes." Kaoru spoke in unison with Kenshin, and they looked at each other in mutual surprise. Her face heated; he blushed faintly, and then Ayame was dragging them along to the puppet show and she had to watch her footing.

She was aware – too aware – that they were on display. That the shōgun's court was watching, whispering and wondering about the behavior of the shōgun's demon and his unwilling bride, what it might mean and how it could be used to advance their own agendas. The business of intrigue never stopped, not even for a festival.

That didn't mean she had to pay it any mind. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight was for her sisters, and for her, and for Kenshin. Tonight she would pretend that the world was not the way it was, and that there were no shadows between them. She had earned that much.

"Sir Ken." A cool voice, rich with amusement.

Kaoru turned her head to see Lady Takani coming towards them. She, too, traveled in a bubble: the court shied away from her as though she carried some infectious disease. Which scandal was, Kaoru supposed: they feared that her disgrace was catching.

"Lady Takani!" Kenshin sounded pleased to see her. He bowed in greeting, as much as he could with Suzume in his arm. "It's good to see you here, that it is."

"Hi, Uncle Ken," a high voice chirped. A boy not much older than Ayame poked his head out from behind Lady Takani's skirts. He was thin-faced and wary, with a full mouth that didn't quite know how to smile. And he stood at a strange angle, as though one leg was slightly shorter than the other.

"And little Katsuo, too." Kenshin's smiled deepened. "Honored wife, have you met Lady Takani's son? One believes you're acquainted with the lady already, that I do…"

"I am. It's a pleasure to see you again, Lady Takani," Kaoru said, watching the other woman's face. There was just the faintest hint of a smirk around her mouth, and a certain wry glint in her eyes.

"I'm glad to see you looking so healthy, Lady Himura. Are these your sisters?"

"Yes. Ayame, Suzume, say hello."

The girls bowed. Ayame frowned at Katsuo.

"What's wrong with your leg?" she asked, peering around Lady Takani to get a better look.

"Nothing!" Katsuo darted around to the other side of his mother. Ayame pursued. Lady Takani reached out to pull her son closer, glaring.

"Ayame!" Kaoru cried, grabbing at her collar and pulling her back. "Don't be rude – "

"But it's all twisted up funny – "

"It's _always_ been like that," Katsuo snapped, clinging to his mother's side. Kaoru could see, now, what caused his strange stance and gait: his right foot was curled in on itself, almost rounded. "And it's not my fault!"

Ayame stopped where she was, tilting her head to one side like a puzzled sparrow.

"I didn't say it _was_ ," she said. "So you were born like that?"

Katsuo eyed her warily. Then he nodded, slowly. His grip on Lady Takani's skirts loosened.

"Oh." Ayame considered this, frowning. "Do you like puppets?"

"…ye-es…" The words came out slowly, as though he didn't quite trust himself to say them. Ayame lunged forward and grabbed his wrist, smiling.

"Come on, then! They're gonna be starting soon and if we get there late we'll _never_ get a good spot."

"Hey – !" But she was already dragging him off, ignoring his half-voiced protest.

"Well, then," Kenshin murmured, and gave Kaoru a warm look. "That's that, it seems."

"I'm sorry, Lady Takani," Kaoru said, flushing. "Ayame was very rude – "

"Yes, she was." Lady Takani raised an eyebrow. "But it worked out in the end. How's your shoulder, Sir Ken?"

"Well enough, that it is."

"Have you been using the salve I gave you?"

"Yes, Lady Takani." Kenshin ducked his head, obedient and mirthful, only to have Suzume grab a fistful of his hair and yank. "Oro!"

"Follow!" she commanded, imperious, and pointed after her sister. Ayame and Katsuo were already disappearing into the crowd around the puppet theatre.

"Forgive me, Lady Takani – honored wife – oro!" Another tug of his hair. "It seems that one's duties are not yet discharged, that they aren't – "

Suzume pulled again and Kenshin hurried to catch up with Ayame, casting a single apologetic glance over his shoulder as he went. Kaoru covered her mouth, trying to hold in the giggles.

"You should see him when Katsuo wants to play Susano-o fighting Orochi," Lady Takani murmured. "He's quite helpless with children."

"I know." Kaoru couldn't stop the small smile that curved the corners of her mouth, any more then she could lessen the fierce lightness in her heart as she watched him carrying Suzume, bending his head to listen to her observations.

"He'll be a wonderful father." There was still a note of challenge in Lady Takani's voice. But not as much as when they'd last met, in that strange interview that had left Kaoru feeling like a cleaned-out wound.

"Yes," Kaoru answered, without thinking. "He will."

"My, but you sound sure." Lady Takani's voice was rich with amusement. Kaoru blushed, suddenly too warm for the cooling evening.

"Well – I mean – if he ever – "

Lady Takani laughed. It wasn't a cruel laugh, but it was definitely at Kaoru's expense.

"You've changed, Lady Himura," she remarked. "Are you a little more certain, now?"

Kaoru turned to face Lady Takani, studying her eyes. There was regret there, like a comfortable friend: she wore pain as a cloak and pride for armor. But there was hope, too, bittersweet and resigned, and Kaoru wondered if she would have the same courage, in Lady Takani's place. To love someone so well that it was enough if they were happy, even if it wasn't with you…

She touched the bandages on her wrists, lightly, remembering. He'd been so gentle.

_This man has wronged you. What is your will?_

Asking, when he could have decided for both of them, ignoring her to focus on his own injury. Asking her to tell him if she was ever hurt or frightened so that he could set things right, when he owed her not a single scrap of consideration. Asking that she live, when he was entitled to demand that she die to preserve his honor…

"I am, Lady Takani. A little more certain."

Lady Takani raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad to hear it."

She looked about to say more: then her eyes widened in shock and she stared over Kaoru's shoulder for half a heartbeat before bowing low, almost parallel to the ground. Kaoru whipped around, startled, and it took her half a second to realize who it was – who it had to be, dressed so finely and cloaked in power – before she, too, bowed as low as she ever had. Her heart hammered in her chest.

"Your Eminence," she murmured.

"There's no need, Lady Himura. Lady Takani. This is a festival, after all." His voice was low, his manner of speaking deliberate and slow. And why not? When this man spoke, the nation craned itself to hear.

Kaoru straightened slowly, not quite daring to raise her eyes.

"Pardon my intrusion," Lord Tokugawa said. "Lady Himura, if you have a moment, I had hoped to speak with you."

Kaoru nodded, momentarily wordless.

"Of – of course, Eminence," she said, blood pounding like a drum between her ears. "I am at your disposal."

 

~*~

"So, Lady Himura." The shōgun watched her with a mild, quizzical look that didn't fool Kaoru for a second. "Are you enjoying the festival?"

"It's very pleasant," she murmured politely, and didn't ask why he wanted to speak with her. For one thing, it would be rude; for another, it was always better to make someone come to you.

They had strolled away from most of the bustle, out towards the garden surrounding the false avenue constructed for the false festival. His guards surrounded them in a loose net, eyes pointedly averted. The sun was drifting towards the horizon, and their shadows stretched and merged before them.

"I had thought that Lord Himura might be too wary to come, given what occurred," he remarked.

"My lord husband is confident in his abilities." Kaoru's heart beat slow and hard, pushing too much blood to her brain. It roared in uncertainty and she pulled in deep, silent breaths, trying to calm herself.

Lord Tokugawa wore power easily, as unassailable as a mountain and just as overwhelming. She could see, now, why men had been moved to follow him into rebellion and death: they could no more have resisted him than the tides could deny the moon. She could even feel herself bending towards him, wanting him to acknowledge her – except that she needed only to remember her father's body coming home, and what awe he drew from her curdled in her stomach.

The shōgun snorted, almost laughing. "As well he should be." He seemed to sigh, then, clasping his hands behind his back. "I must offer my sincerest regrets, Lady Himura. That individual's success in penetrating the palace's security is my failure. I do not know how he was able to acquire the passes that he used to deceive the guards, but an investigation is proceeding and the guards in question will be disciplined."

"Disciplined? How?" Shock tore the words from her. She had forgotten that not only her father's men stood to suffer from her mistake. The guards at the gate would be held responsible, too; the guards who had laughed as they accepted Black Hat's faked pass, laughed as she threw herself against the side of the palanquin and he excused the noise as a woman who didn't know her place…

Her hands tightened, not quite clenching.

"They have requested, and will be granted, an honorable suicide." Lord Tokugawa's face and voice were smooth as a sheltered pond on a windless day, reflecting only the surface and showing nothing of the waters beneath.

The guards had _laughed_. She remembered it too well, how Black Hat had joked with them as they checked his pass. Because what did it matter if a woman did not want to go where men wished to take her?

 _Let them die, then_ , some cold part of her whispered. _It's no less than they deserve_.

Her pause had gone on too long. She had to say something.

"Your Eminence, that is too much." She halted her slow stroll and bowed low, mind racing. They had _laughed_ – but she and Kenshin had already decided that their own men would not die for this. And for the shōgun to order his men to suicide when Lord Himura did not – for it to appear that Kenshin disagreed with his overlord – yet she _could not_ let her father's men suffer for her mistake.

"The loss of Sir Narita and Sir Yoida were terrible blows," she continued, thinking frantically of what her father might say in this position. "Black Hat cannot be allowed any further victories against the Tokugawa. And… furthermore…" She hesitated just long enough to make her message clear. "My lord husband has already decided the fates of _his_ men in this matter."

Lord Tokugawa paused with her, raising an eyebrow. "And that fate is?"

"They are to be demoted, and their salaries cut. It is my lord husband's desire that Black Hat steal no more loyal men from the realm." She held her bow, heart pounding, and hoped that she had done enough.

He regarded her for a long moment, studying her with something that was not quite indifference.

"I see," he said at last. "Lord Himura decided." There was a strange note in his voice.

"Yes, Eminence." Kaoru peered up from under her bangs, uncertain what she might find, and stifled a gasp.

There was a smile twitching at the edges of Lord Tokugawa's mouth.

"Straighten up, Lady Himura," he said, almost gently. "Your father would be proud."

Shock and anger burst under her heart, firing her veins and she snapped herself up, rearing back to bite – then she caught herself.

"I can see that he trained you well." Lord Tokugawa went on blithely, ignoring her reaction. "Although I would expect no less from Sir Koushijiro. He had a gift for this sort of thing – staying his course regardless of the forces brought against him. I do wish, though, that he had found it in him to bend a little, at the end."

And she wanted to snarl at him for daring to say such a thing, but she couldn't: not without more consequences than she could bear. So she had to listen, and hear the softness in his tone, the regret underlying his words.

He was not gloating.

"Sir Koushijiro was a good man." Lord Tokugawa nodded, sighing deeply. "We will not see another like him soon."

"My lord father did – what he believed honor required." She almost said _what honor required_ , without the caveat, but the words felt shallow on her tongue and she swallowed them.

"Do you agree with his actions, Lady Himura?" He had gone back to studying her. She swallowed, preparing to wrestle down her rage – and found it gone. Where her fury had been – _how dare he, how dare they betray the Regent's legacy, how dare they turn against Lord Toyotomi's appointed heir?_ – there was only quiet grief, and an echoing confusion.

"…I am only a woman, Eminence. It is not my place to say."

He gave her a sardonic look. "I do not ask questions unless I desire an answer. Speak – that is an order, and if I dislike what you say, then more fool I for asking the daughter of a man I killed if she understands my reasons."

An order. Kaoru closed her eyes briefly, searching for the words – for something that would satisfy the shōgun without leaving her too undefended.

"I… once did, Eminence." She let the words out slowly, feeling each one as it left. Her feelings were not politically dangerous, as long as she implied that her loyalties had shifted to match her husband's. That was only proper. Yet it was only half-true: she had lost the certainty that her father had been right and gained nothing in its place, except confusion and the hatred she could not shed, hatred for of this man who had taken all that she loved. "I no longer believe that my honored father chose correctly when he opposed you."

She couldn't quite bring herself to speak the full lie.

"I see." Lord Tokugawa began to walk again, calm and stately, and Kaoru matched her stride to his. "I see, also, that you do not quite believe that he was wrong, either."

Horror spiked her heart. Lord Tokugawa chuckled.

"Don't feel bad," he said, stopping to examine a strand of jasmine vine. It was a black thread in his hands in the low evening light, dotted with half-bloomed flowers like miniature stars. "You're not quite old enough to outfox me. Though you're a sight better at hiding yourself than your husband, at least."

"Eminence – " she started to say; then he started walking again and she had to hurry to keep up with his long strides.

"This isn't a trap, Lady Himura," he said, "though I knew you must assume it is one. And I am not a monster – not when I can avoid it."

She cast her eyes down, unable – unwilling – to speak. If he needed an excuse to kill her, he already had one: he knew, now, that she potentially a serpent at his breast. Why make it worse?

"Lady Himura." His voice was very nearly gentle. "Must I repeat myself? I am not looking for a reason to destroy you."

"Eminence." She stopped where she was and bowed as low as she ever had. "You don't need one."

"Precisely," he agreed. "And I have better things to do than frighten young women. Lady Himura – " and he sighed again. "Raise your head, Koushijiro's daughter."

Startled, she obeyed. He caught her eyes and held them. Kaoru stilled under his calm, analytical gaze as he searched her face, something like regret playing out in the back of his eyes.

"Your father was one of the best men I have ever known," he said, and his voice rang hard and terrible. "It was always my sincere wish that he stand at my side in this new world. It is a source of everlasting regret to me that he chose otherwise." His eyes bore into hers. "I am surrounded by lords who grasp for power as they did their mother's milk, with as little understanding – blind and desperate and craving. I need men who do not live their lives thinking only of their next meal. Men like your husband is. Men like your father was. And you, Lady Himura, are your father's only legacy: the last gift he gave to this fallen world."

There was a blazing intensity in his face, a power in his words that forced her to take a step back. He was speaking only truth, raw and unadorned, without prevarication or lacquered courtesies.

"I do not speak to you as a captive bride, or a conquered foe. I speak to you as the daughter of a man I deeply admired, and the wife of a man whose friendship I value for its own sake. I speak to the Lady Himura, who – if I cannot count you among my friends – I would still rather not count among my enemies. You are your father's daughter. If you truly chose to set yourself against me, you would fail – but I would lose much in defeating you. The _nation_ would lose much. And it has lost enough."

The old bitterness welled up inside her, hot as coals. She spoke without thinking, caught in the tide of rage that had coiled in her belly, untouched and unexpressed, since she'd watched her father's broken body carried to its pyre.

"What would you know of loss?" she hissed, not daring to raise her voice in case his scattered guards heard. "What have you _ever_ lost?"

Lord Tokugawa drew back, his eyes dark – or perhaps it was only the evening shadows drawing on. There was a long pause where her heart hammered hard against her ribs, pounding like a great festival drum. Drums were starting in the distance, in the center of the false city street. Voices were chattering, raised in song that wound around the steady beat like her breath around her panicked heart.

"As much, in my way, as you," Lord Tokugawa said finally, and with far too much calm. "I have been sold for my family's sake, and sold my own children in return. I still remember being summoned to Lord Nobuhide's audience chamber to hear my father's response, after the Oda had kidnapped me from the Imagawa to force my father to sever ties with that clan. My life would be the penalty, if he did not: if he ever saw me again, it would be as a corpse."

He paused here, and if he were any other man Kaoru might have thought that he was composing himself.

"My father's response was only one line. 'Then kill him,' Lord Nobuhide read aloud to me, 'and seal my alliance to the Imagawa with my firstborn's blood.' The late Lord Nobunaga was there, too – his head barely shaved from his coming-of-age. I wonder, sometimes, what he made of the scene."

Another pause.

"I was six years old."

Kaoru knew the story: how Lord Nobuhide had not killed him, had chosen instead to keep the boy alive three years in a monastery, until the Imagawa had ransomed him back. How that mercy had been repaid twelve years later, when he had broken with the Imagawa to ally with the Oda under Lord Nobunaga. He and Lord Toyotomi had served Lord Oda together until the great warrior's death by treachery; then, in the ensuing chaos, he had allied himself with Lord Oda's second son, Nobukatsu, and came to serve Lord Toyotomi only after Nobukatsu had bent the knee. She had never really thought, until this moment, about the little boy this man had once been: now she did, and felt a cold hand tighten around her heart. Six year old… younger even than Yahiko.

And she did not _want_ to pity that child, sitting alone before the lord who'd promised to kill him and hearing that his father would not save him – but she did.

"Yet, when the time came, I ordered my own firstborn son to his death," Lord Tokugawa had resumed speaking, his voice calm as ever. "For the sake of my alliance with Lord Oda, I commanded him to suicide, lest he seek vengeance for his mother's death. My own first wife, difficult though she was, whom I myself had ordered executed because the accusations of treachery against her could not be disproven. My son, my wife – lost, all for the sake of that alliance. I had thought, when my father sent that message, that I would never do as he did, never betray my own flesh and blood for mere politics. But when the time came – when the choice was mine…"

He trailed off, as though he needed to compose himself again and Kaoru thought that maybe he _did_. That, perhaps, there was still something of that six-year-old boy in this man who commanded armies with a single word, who needed only clear his throat to have a nation quivering at attention. Who could never afford to grieve, or regret his decisions – could never betray that kind of weakness.

And she thought, for the first time, that such power might sometimes be its own kind of hell.

"Your father never did quite trust me, after that," Lord Tokugawa said, finally, and resumed walking.

"That was one of the reasons he allied with Lord Toyotomi," Kaoru murmured, without meaning to speak aloud. Lord Tokugawa glanced at her.

"Indeed. Although he had been sworn to Lord Oda, he allied himself with Lord Toyotomi when the time came. He allowed Lord Toyotomi his dominion over the Oda." There was a challenge in his voice.

"Lord Toyotomi had sought vengeance against Akechi for the murder of Lord Oda," Kaoru responded automatically.

"As did I."

"But – " She covered her mouth, realizing what she'd done. Challenged the shōgun –

Who had good as _asked_ her to challenge him, for reasons she could barely believe.

"But Lord Toyotomi arrived first?" There was a peculiar little smile playing over Lord Tokugawa's face. "No. I suspect that your father gave you a different answer."

"He did…" Kaoru let her hand fall, resting on her collar. "He said that – that the Oda had been thrown in disarray." His eldest son and heir had been killed with him, leaving no appointed successor. "If all the claimants had fallen to fighting, Japan would have been torn apart, after Lord Nobunaga had just begun to unite us. It was better to support whomever could keep the Oda holdings together…"

"Indeed." Lord Tokugawa sighed. "This is a dangerous time, Lady Himura. I hear what the foreign priests do and do not say; I see our increasing dependence on their goodwill for the sake of Portuguese trade and it makes me wary. A foreigner from a different nation was shipwrecked just last year, who claims to belong to a country that is at war with the Portuguese and their priests. He tells me that the Portuguese and another nation have divided the world amongst themselves; that they believe their god has given them the right of _ownership_ over our country, among others." He snorted and shook his head, once. "Absurd – and I would laugh at it, except that when I asked the priests they paled and could not answer."

"Then you mean – " Kaoru thought of the priests in Hito, their mild manners and their clumsy attempts at intrigue. "But – how could they possibly hope – they're so _obvious_ about everything!"

"One need not be subtle, if one commands the greater army. And what I have heard of their military power disturbs me." Lord Tokugawa's head bowed for a moment. "They would be fighting far from home, and I think we could repel them, if it came to that – but at a cost. A great one. Any instability, any war that might break out… I think that they would take the opportunity we provided them, and we would raise our heads from feasting on one another to find them bearing down on us, jaws wide."

It sounded ridiculous: it sounded impossible, given what she knew of the foreign priests, given her own experiences. Yet Lord Tokugawa sounded absolutely certain…

"Given this," he asked quietly. "Can you see why a man might do whatever was necessary to secure peace?"

Kaoru looked away. Lord Tokugawa gave a soft laugh.

"I don't require an answer now. But think about what I have said here, tonight. Your father used to say that our lives are not our own, and I have never heard a purer truth than that. I, too, did as I believed honor required." The sun had slid below the horizon as they talked, and his eyes were bright in the evening shadows. "As I believed that the _nation_ required."

 

~*~

Lord Tokugawa had one of his guards escort her back to where Kenshin and the girls were playing. Ayame had managed to gather up enough children for a game of kagome-kagome and had pushed Kenshin into the center, with childish thoughtlessness, to play the demon. The children were circling him where he stood with his eyes obediently closed, their hands joined as they chanted.

 _Surrounded, surrounded! The bird is imprisoned_  
When will it be free?  
In the evening of the dawn  
The turtle and the crane fell  
Who is it that stands behind?

Then they stopped. Kenshin furrowed his brow, concentrating, and Kaoru was seized by a strange, tender impulse – a reaction, maybe, to the intensity of her unexpected conversation. Or perhaps it was only that Kenshin looked so puzzled, standing there and mulling over his decision. After all, he couldn't leave the circle unless he guessed correctly.

She pressed a single finger to her lips and stepped up behind him, breaking silently into the circle. Ayame – safe on the other side – couldn't repress a giggle. Kenshin frowned.

"…honored wife?" he said finally, doubt clear in his voice.

"Right!" Ayame crowed, before Kaoru could say anything. "Big sister snuck in!"

Kenshin started. Then, a little too slowly, he turned to face her. His eyes were wide and bright, sky-blue blushing deeper around the edges like the very beginnings of a sunrise. She gave him a small smile, not sure why it made her feel so light to see him – not quite, though she could feel the knowledge growing in the space below her heart, in the place where she'd thought only hatred dwelled.

"Well done," she told him. He smiled at her, overjoyed, as if she was the most important thing in the world.

 

~*~

Kenshin sat on the porch next to Lady Kaoru, a tray holding a pot of cooling tea between them. It was very late; even the frogs in the pond were sleeping. The stars glimmered above them, scattered like millet seeds across the heavens.

They'd had to carry the girls home, in the end. The festival had been far too exciting – jugglers and puppets and music and games, and then the fire-flower display to finish off the evening: brilliant bursts of color against a black-silk sky, soaring up and fading to stardust, then to nothing. It had been a long time since Kenshin had last seen such a display. He'd forgotten how beautiful they were.

Or maybe it was only that the company was vastly improved. The last time he'd seen fire-flowers he'd sat alone, at the very back of a crowded dais, doing his best not to ruin anyone's evening with the reminder of his presence. The skeleton at the feast, as it were. The demon in the sacred ground.

This time, he hadn't been alone.

And he wasn't alone now. He'd asked, heart in his throat, if the Lady Kaoru might wish to join him for a cup of barley tea before bed, and she'd accepted. Accepted with a smile, as she'd been smiling all evening – a true smile, not a polite fiction. He'd thought of her smile as a prize too precious for his world; yet here she was, sitting as his side with her lips curving in real contentment as she sipped her tea.

"Did you enjoy the evening?" he ventured, toying with his empty cup.

"I did." Her smile faltered. "Although there were some unexpected moments."

"One had heard." Kenshin put his cup down, crossing his legs and leaning against a convenient pillar. It put him at right angles to her, so he saw her only in profile.

It wasn't that he suspected anything of Lord Tokugawa – but it would have been nice if the shōgun had thought to warn him that he planned to drag Lady Kaoru off for a private interview.

"My apologies, if you were troubled…"

She laughed. It pierced him, enough that he almost forgot what he was trying to say. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd heard her laugh; each one stood out in his memory like a summer day.

"It isn't as though you could have done anything," she pointed out. "He's the shōgun."

"True, but…" Kenshin blushed a little, feeling off-balance. "One could have warned you, at least. Had one known."

"I think my _not_ being warned was the point." Her voice was almost amused. "It wasn't that bad. You don't have to worry."

"Ah." He let it go, not saying what he wanted to say: that worrying about her was his whole existence. He had lived too long without sunlight to bear its loss again. "May one ask what you discussed?"

She was silent for a long moment, tracing the rim of her cup. Long enough that Kenshin began to think he had overstepped.

"Forgi – "

"My father," she said, overlapping him. "We talked about my father."

Kenshin fell silent, watching her. There was just enough light to see her by: the lantern glowing from his study shed diffused light across her face, and the half-moon growing fuller above them filled the night with charcoal and silver. Her eyes were brilliant in the shadows, brighter even than fire-flowers. The half-light brought the lines of her face into stark relief, turned her full lips into a blood-dark bow.

"…I wish he could have met you," she said, at last. "I wish…" She took a deep breath and put down her cup, bracing her hands against the porch edge and leaning back to study the stars. He thought he saw their glimmer reflected in her eyes.

"You know, he made me a promise, when I was a little girl. Well, he promised Mother – but it was to me, too. And my sisters. He promised Mother first, though, so I guess – I guess it was her promise more than mine."

Another breath, and this one came out more a sigh.

"He promised Mother that he would never order us to marry. I mean – we'd have to marry eventually. But he promised that we'd be able to say no, to the person I mean. If we didn't want him. That we could choose – we could marry who we wanted. When the time came. So that we wouldn't have to be afraid, the way she'd been… so that we'd know that we were marrying a good man."

"Ah." He didn't know what else to say. "I… I am sorry. For your loss."

Small, stupid words that didn't begin to encompass the enormity of how she had been betrayed. Bad enough to be sold to a demon, but… to have lived your life with the promise that you were destined for something else, and have that promise broken…

"Forgive me," he said, and looked away.

"It's not your fault." Her voice was free of rancor. "Uncle broke Father's promise. Not you."

"Still." Kenshin swallowed, wishing he had the words. "One – wishes that – that your father's promise had been fulfilled. That you…" his throat dried as he thought of her happy, smiling and laughing, wrapped close in the arms of another man. A man who was not him. Could never be him. "That you had been free to choose."

 _Choose me_ , he wanted to beg, and knew that he couldn't. In another world, perhaps, where she wasn't bound to him, he could have asked. Could have tried to persuade her, to win her – tried and failed, probably, but at least – he could have _tried_.

Not here, though, not now. She was his wife: if he asked, she was duty-bound to say _yes_. How could he be sure that more than duty drove her? He wanted to ask her – but how could he know that it would not diminish her? How could he ever know that she had truly chosen him, when he had the right to kill her for a misplaced word?

She looked over at him, seeming only half-real. A spirit resting from her labors, something no mortal hand should ever touch.

"What was your father like?"

"My father…?" He blinked, bewildered. "I – one hardly remembers him, truthfully."

Fragments, vague memories of strong arms and a rumbling laugh. All his memories of the time before his apprenticeship were a little blurred, a little disjointed – he'd been hit on the head when the raiders attacked his village, and his master had said that sometimes such blows could affect memory.

No one ever asked him about his childhood, though, so it hardly mattered.

"Oh." She swung her legs idly, exposing slivers of pale ankle as her kimono caught against her thighs. "It's just… I just realized, I don't really know anything about you, and… I thought, maybe… you know. This is the sort of thing people should know about each other. In our situation." She was talking a little too quickly.

"Our situation?" he repeated, still adrift. She nodded.

"It's Tanabata," she said, as if that explained everything. He blinked at her, questions crowding in his throat and fighting to make it to his tongue. There were too many to sort through; he didn't even know where to begin.

"You know the story, right? About the Cowherd and the Weaver."

"…yes?" The Weaver was the most beautiful of all the stars, the daughter of the King of Heaven; she had fallen in love with her father's cowherd and begged her father to approve the match. He'd done so gladly, until the newlywed's love distracted them so much that they neglected their duties. So the King of Heaven had set down a great river of stars between them, separating them forever – except once a year, when a flock of magpies took pity on the parted lovers and formed a bridge across the river so that they could meet.

"It's a clear night," Lady Kaoru said, still in that nearly too confident tone – as though what she was saying made perfect sense. Which it probably did, and he just lacked the wit to see it. "They should be able to meet. As long as the magpies show up…"

She looked at him, then – _looked_ at him, as though she was willing him to understand. As though there was a message in what she was saying, something that she didn't dare say outright, and he couldn't think what it might be except – except the one thing that it couldn't possibly be.

Lady Kaoru slid towards him along the porch, pushing the tea tray out of the way until she was near enough that he could smell her perfume, could – if he reached out – curl his fingers around a lock of her hair. Her kimono's gold embroidery caught in the lantern light, sending shimmers along the dragons wrapped around her calves and knees. They looked nearly alive, dancing against the deep, deep red. Her bridal gift – his colors, his sigil, wrapped around her. Part of her.

Kenshin scratched at the back of his neck, dizzy with uncertainty. He felt very strange: light and sparkling, as if his veins were filled with fire-flowers.

"The magpies? …if they make a bridge, do you mean?"

She nodded. "It's not raining anymore, so…" An eloquent shrug as she repeated herself, drawing her legs up under her to kneel on the porch, facing him. "So there's no reason why they shouldn't meet."

"As long as the magpies allow it," Kenshin murmured, caught in her bright blue eyes. Willingly so: he would drown himself in her eyes, if she would let him. If she would let him – just let him in, to warm himself by her fire…

"Yes." Lady Kaoru nodded again and leaned forward, too close for conversation. Her brows drew down and her eyes were stern. She was nearly frowning. Kenshin fought to keep his breath even and found that he couldn't: it shook in his lungs, set him trembling like a leaf ready to fall. She was so near, less than a handspan away, rich and heady with the scent of jasmine flowers. Night-blooming, he remembered giddily. "The magpies."

Determination glowed in her eyes, fierce and overwhelming, and he opened his mouth to say something, anything, and then her eyes shut tight and she pressed her lips firmly against his. Soft. They were so soft, and he didn't know how something so soft could send so much feeling racing through him, fire his blood and make him pant after her when she pulled away, blushing.

"…honored wife…" he gasped, hoarse. Her hand rose to his face – hesitated, trembling – and then her fingers pressed light against his cheek.

"Kaoru," she said quietly. "That's my name, you know?"

"…Kaoru," he whispered. It felt like a benediction.

Kenshin didn't know, then, if he had kissed her or she had kissed him, only that her mouth was sweet and warm and he curled his fingers in her hair, combing through the black silk strands. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into her and he went gladly, uncrossing his legs to let her come closer. He could feel her through the layers of cloth between them, her hard curves so _close_ and still too far away – and he could never, ever be close enough, near enough, not to her –

He broke away, gasping for air, and buried his face in her shoulder. Kaoru's arms wrapped around him as he shook, clinging to her. Too much – he was all hunger and need, his mind and body aching for her touch, her lips, her hands, her – everything –

"Kaoru," he said again, tasting it, the snap and roll of it on his tongue. "Kaoru. I – "

It hurt to draw away from her. Kenshin did it anyway, tilting his head back to see her clearly. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him, hair undone and falling down her back, around her face, her lips swollen and parted as breath sighed out between them.

"I don't – understand," he managed to say with what was left of his reason. "Why…?"

She pressed a finger to his mouth, shy. He wanted to nibble at her fingertips and kiss her wrist, her palm, taste the salt of her skin.

"I'm your wife," she said quietly.

"I…" Kaoru hadn't taken her finger away; his lips moved against her skin and he stifled a moan, ruthlessly forced his hands not to tighten and draw her down to kiss her again, and again and again until they were both breathless. Because this was _important_ , more important even than her soft, warm skin and the curve of her hips under his hands.

"Not – not for that reason alone. Please." _Please touch me, kiss me, anything you want but only if you truly want to, only for your own sake…_ "Only if – only if _you_ – "

"Oh." That little syllable, quiet and surprised, and he thought – shaky with lust – that there was a world contained within it. "No. No, I – well…"

Her face flushed with more than arousal.

"You're kind. And you're good to my sisters. And – " she laid her hand against his cheek once more, fingertips stroking the fragile skin across his temple. "And I like your eyes."

"Kaoru." He thought that he would never tire of saying her name. She kissed him again and he let himself fall into her, lost himself in her mouth and skin and the veil of her hair cascading over them. Her nails scratched across his scalp, shivery as the air before a storm, and he groaned into her mouth, clinging.

This time it was Kaoru who pulled away, resting her forehead against his. She was trembling a little, holding his shoulders to keep herself steady, and her breath came sharp between her lush, red lips. Kenshin kept himself still, waiting for her. He felt her breasts rising and falling against him and wanted to crush himself against her, breathe her in and surrender.

It was very, very hard to wait.

Eventually her hands left his shoulders to brush through his hair. She let out a shuddering sigh.

"Sorry," she said quietly, her eyes hooded. "I – I don't know what to do next."

"What do you mean?" He curled his fingers into her scarlet kimono, dragging the silk across her skin. She shivered.

"I mean – well – we never _did_ have a wedding night."

"Oh." His mind went utterly blank. "Oh. Oh, _Kaoru_ …"

 _Too much_ , the faint, dying voice of sanity whispered. _It's too much_. But he couldn't tell her no, that he didn't believe her – didn't believe that she wanted him the way a woman wants a man. She had always been honest, even with her hatred; it would be an insult to accuse her of lying _now_.

"So…" She was speaking again. "Anyway… if you could just show me…"

A thought occurred to him, at her words. He smiled at her, smoothing his hands up her back to her shoulders, coaxing her to raise herself on her knees.

"Tell me," he murmured against her skin, pressing his lips to her collarbone. "If you don't like something – if you want me to stop, or do something else. Just tell me." His eager tongue darted out to taste the sweat beading in her clavicle. "Promise?"

"…yes," she whispered, grabbing at his hair. The tug – the pressure, light and insistent – sent a shiver of lightning down his spine. He ignored it, stroking down her back and around under her ribs, across her belly. The silk pulled at his fingers, heavy and smooth and slightly cool.

"Here…" Kenshin steadied her, sliding one hand around to rest on her shoulderblade. His other hand shook as he raised it towards her collar, resting his fingers carefully just on the safe side of the border where cloth met skin. "May I…?"

A light tug made his meaning clear. Kaoru's breast heaved under his hand.

"…yes," she said. "Yes."

Carefully, trying to keep his hand steady, he pulled her kimono and the cotton slip beneath it gently aside. Her nipple peaked in the night air, cold only for a moment before he covered it with his palm, pressing his mouth lightly against the side of her breast. She let out a startled noise, half a gasp, and clutched him tighter.

"Oh!"

Kenshin couldn't quite stop himself from grinning against her skin. As long as he gave to her, and didn't take – ignored his own pleasure for hers – that was all right, wasn't it? He could do this much for her.

And maybe his thinking was a little skewed. But she was here, warm and wonderful in his arms, responding to his touch, to the slow kisses that he draped across her skin. So he had to believe.

He ducked his head to mouth gently along the underside of her breast. Kaoru moaned, dropping her head on top of his and pushing up against him, all warmth and sweat and fading jasmine perfume. His head swam with it, with her, with the sounds she was making and the clutch of her fingers in his hair.

" _Kenshin_ …" She fairly gasped his name, fluttering and breathless, and he ached with it. Wanted to hear it again, over and over, until he forgot that he was anything else – until he was only Kenshin. _Her_ Kenshin.

Kaoru's hips jumped, rocking towards him, and he slid his hand down her side to just above the delta of her thighs, brushing his thumb across the crease of her hips. She stilled, then, and he drew back to look up at her.

"Is this too much?"

Her eyes were dazed. She swallowed, breathing hard.

"I don't know," she said finally. "Keep going?"

Kenshin nodded. He kept his eyes on her, easing his hand under her skirts. She jumped when he touched her thigh and he paused again, watching her. Waiting.

"…it's all right." Her voice wavered a little. "Go on."

"If you're not sure…"

"I _am_ sure." She caught his face between her hands and kissed him, fiercely. He gasped, composure flooding away with the movement of her mouth against his. "It's just new, that's all," she murmured against his lips.

"Yes," he whispered, and traced the line of her skin blindly upwards to the softness at the apex of her thighs. She was hot there, slippery and _ready_ , and cried out his name when he stroked his thumb over the nub at her cleft's peak. He rocked his hand against her, matching her thrusts as she panted in his ear, clutching at his shoulders. When he leaned forward to kiss her breasts again she fairly snarled in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Kenshin asked, dry-mouthed. She was bucking against him, hair falling wild and shielding them from the world. Her flushed, panting face was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen; the only thing he could see, the only thing he wanted to see, and he didn't dare move more than his head and hand. If he did, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop.

"I – I don't _know_ ," she groaned. "It's not – it's not enough."

"Ah." Kenshin slid his hand a little further down. "Here, then."

And he curled two fingers carefully inside her. Her eyes flew open as she twisted, searching: he went with her, followed where her body led him and – yes, there, a little harder, with a press of his thumb to that cluster of nerves –

Kaoru nearly deafened him, muffling her shout in his hair. Her body convulsed, clenching around his fingers in waves as she collapsed against him, gasping, her arms winding tight around his neck while she shuddered in her aftershocks.

He stroked his way out gently, soothing her, and kissed the tip of her breast one last time before he gently pulled her collar shut to keep out the cold.

"Oh." She curled up in his arms, shivering, and the press of her body against him was almost painful. He _wanted_ her – his entire being yearned towards her, ached for her skin and her hair and her lips.

Kenshin held her close and waited. In a few minutes she calmed, relaxing into his chest, and her hand came up to toy with his collar.

"Is that – " she started to say, and swallowed. "Is that what happens next, then?"

"Ah." He squeezed her a little tighter, doing his best to ignore his own body. "Yes."

She made a contented little humming noise, splaying her hand across his chest. Her fingers brushed his bare skin and his cock jumped at the contact. Kenshin suppressed a whimper.

"So, then…" Kaoru bit her lower lip, and he couldn't help the distressed moan that escaped him at the sight. Her hand stroked across his skin, trailing lightning across his nerves. "I guess…"

She shifted to face him. Her hand slid down his chest to his stomach, then further down as her other hand curled once more around the back of his neck.

"Kaoru – "

She kissed him, so sweetly that he lost his breath, and gingerly pressed her hand against his aching cock. It was his turn to bite his lip, trying desperately to strangle his cries as she explored him with too-gentle touches. He thrust against her hand, unable to stop himself as her careful fingers caressed _almost_ the right places, with _nearly_ enough pressure and gods, yes, _please_ – he was coming apart. It took everything he had just to keep his grip on her, to bury his face where her neck met her shoulder and breathe her in, and he clung to her like a drowning man.

"Kaoru, oh, Kaoru please – I – wait – "

She stopped. He fell back against the pillar, sucking in air like a landed fish, and tried to get a hold of himself. Kaoru leaned in, worry lighting her beautiful eyes.

"I'm sorry, did I – ?"

"No," he sighed out, barely conscious. "No. It's just that – if you'd kept going, one would have – that is to say…"

"Oh." She drew back, face reddening. " _Oh_. Um."

Kenshin swallowed, wordless. She looked at him for a long time, studying him, and her face took on that same fierce determination it had before. Like she'd seen the height from the top of the cliff, the small space in the rocks below, and was going to jump regardless.

His heart pounded against his ribs.

Kaoru took his hand and stood up, pulling at his arm. Kenshin followed her, too dazed to resist, and she led him down the porch to where the doors of her room stood open to let in the night breeze. She stepped over the threshold easily, and that was where he stopped.

She looked back at him. Her grip tightened around his hand.

"Well, come on." Her eyes were so bright.

"But…" He could barely keep his breath; it danced in and out of his lungs like a blow, short and sharp. "That is…" The world was slipping out from underneath him, everything changing and sliding faster than he could keep up, and the only certainty he had was her strong hand warm in his.

"You're my husband," she said, in a voice that was a little too firm, shaking underneath but determined not to back down, and he loved her for it. "And you're coming to my room." She raised her chin. "I'm _inviting_ you."

"Kaoru." He couldn't think of anything but her name, couldn't see anything but her eyes, couldn't feel anything but her skin.

"I'm inviting you," she said again, her thumb tracing idle figures on the back of his hand. "I want you to come in."

The fading remnants of his common sense said no, wait, talk about this in the morning. Not here, they whispered, not under the half-grown moon that barely knew itself, much less the right thing to do. Not now, when he was still drunk with her scent, her taste, her cries of pleasure ringing in his ears…

But there were so very few remnants left, and he wanted her so very much.

"…Kaoru," he breathed, and crossed her threshold.

 

~*~

Something changed when Kenshin stepped into her room. Or maybe it was only Kaoru who was different: she certainly _felt_ changed, like she was growing too big for her skin, her entire being encircled and tangled with shimmering nerves and hot, slick ache. It was easy to pull Kenshin close and kiss him again, to wrap her arms around his neck and bury her hands in his hair. He was hot against her, trembling as he pressed his lips to hers her so tenderly that it took her breath away.

"Kaoru," he mumbled into her hair, running his hands along her sides, over her ribs and down again to her hips, again and again and trailing sparks behind him. "Kaoru."

She'd never heard her name said with such raw adoration.

"It's all right," she murmured, stroking his hair. "I want this." _I want you_ , she didn't quite dare to say, but she thought he might have heard it anyway. His arms fairly crushed her, his hands tracing delicately across her obi's bow.

And she wasn't lying. She – hadn't planned this, exactly – but as they'd watched the fire-flowers together, Ayame and Suzume clutching wide-eyed at their hands, she'd felt his gaze on her. It had made her shiver, in a _good_ way, to think of him watching her with his strange, bright eyes: wanting her, waiting for her word. She'd wondered, suddenly, what it would be like if she was truly his wife, with his child growing inside her, and her hand had risen unconsciously to rest low against her belly. Without quite knowing how or why she was so sure, she'd seen a future unfolding: long warm days of ruling at his side, raising sons and daughters with hair the color of maple leaves in autumn.

Her father had given her a maple leaf, before he'd gone to war. For loyalty – it had always been his creed, more than honor, more than glory. And yet…

 _Although he had been sworn to Lord Oda, he allied himself with Lord Toyotomi when the time came._ For good reasons. Reasons that mattered. For the sake of the nation – to prevent civil war.

_I, too, did as I believed honor required. As I believed that the nation required._

Loyalty to her father, to her fallen clan… but her clan had sold her without a care, and her father was dead. Her father, who had made a choice and been, if not wrong, perhaps not completely right either. Her father, who above all would have wanted her to be happy.

 _Our lives do not belong to us_. But that didn't mean she didn't have a choice.

She'd looked over and met Kenshin's eyes, seen what was shining there – what had always been there – and known that he was a good man and he loved her. That she could be happy with him, if she chose.

So she'd chosen.

Kaoru reached behind her and guided Kenshin's hands, setting them on the trailing edges of her sash.

"Here. If you just pull a little, it should…"

His hands shook under hers, as they had when he'd pulled back her collar to kiss her breasts, and he pressed himself against her as though he could never be close enough. She pulled his head down to hers, her mouth slanting over his as she rode a sudden wave of fierce desire. He moaned into her kiss, darting his tongue into her mouth. She copied him, stroking her fingertips down his neck, his shoulders, letting her hands come to rest at his belt.

"May I?" he asked, gathering the ends of the bow in one hand. She fumbled at the knot in his belt, thrillingly aware of the male hardness just below it.

"If I can, too," she said, giddy with her boldness. So like him, to ask even now, when she had said over and over again that he could. To assume nothing, even given what had come before. It made her feel – powerful, in an odd way, and strangely tender.

"Ah." Kenshin's eyes fluttered shut. He bent his head towards her, and she felt his chest rise as he breathed her in. "Yes."

Kaoru pulled at the knot and felt an answering tug at her back. She hid her blush in his shoulder, trusting her sensitive fingertips to guide her at his belt as her obi fell away. He drew the long cloth carefully out from between them and let it fall to the floor at their feet. It coiled in on itself, thick silk shimmering in the moonlight.

Her fingers were clumsy, catching on invisible threads. Kenshin waited for her, running his hands through her hair and breathing long, shaky breaths as she eased his hakama down to hang low on his waist. Her courage failed her, then, and she simply wrapped her arms around him. He was all lean, strong warmth, smelling of clean earth and fresh-brewed tea.

"Kaoru." His hands slid down her biceps, soothing, and his eyes were bright. "You don't have to."

"Stop saying that," she grumbled into his chest. "I want to. Just – show me what to do."

"Here." A kiss on her temple, her hairline, as his hands left her for a moment and she felt them brush against hers, pushing his hakama all the way down so he could step out of them. "Like this."

Then he was lowering himself to her futon, drawing her down with him and across him so that she was straddling his hips as he leaned back, supporting himself on one arm. His good arm, she noted – though his wounded arm was nearly halfway healed.

"It'll be easier this way. For you, I mean." He flushed. "If you still intend to…"

She nearly scowled. "I'm not going to change my mind. What do I do?"

By way of an answer he clasped her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her palm. His lips moved slow and soft against her skin; his eyes were hooded and utterly absorbed, as though he wanted nothing more than to kiss her hand forever. She could feel him rising hard against her inner thigh: their robes were draped open around them but didn't stop the stroke of skin on skin. It made her shudder.

"Kenshin…" She brushed his bangs away from his face with her free hand, running her fingers through his autumn-leaf hair. His throat worked. "Show me."

"…as you wish." He looked up at her, shy, and brought their joined hands down to where their bodies touched. Her fingers brushed against him: he jumped and so did she. He felt – softer than she expected, and she skimmed the pads of her fingers along the length of him, exploring. Kenshin gasped, his free hand falling away to fist in the sheets.

" _Kaoru_."

Kaoru had thought that he would be stiff, like wood or metal, but his – member – was firm rather than really hard, more like a flexed muscle than anything else. She closed her hand around it experimentally. He choked and it throbbed in her grip, warm and living. A part of him, she realized abruptly; she'd thought of it as somehow detached, separate, but no. It was all Kenshin, and Kenshin could never hurt her.

He was panting under her, his head falling back to expose the long column of his throat. She leaned over, filled with tender impulse, and kissed a slow line from his collarbone to the fine crease under his chin. The noise that he made – raw and pleading – was like fire in her veins. Kaoru raised herself up on her knees, holding his cock lightly in one hand.

She did know this part, at least. She wasn't totally ignorant.

It didn't hurt, sliding him inside her. Not at first. He cried out, falling down on his elbows and she slid him in a little further, realizing why he'd drawn her down on top of him – she could control things, this way, could go as slow as she needed to.

A little more, and things started to feel strange. Not bad, precisely. Just a deep, _deep_ stretch, like working a muscle stiff with disuse, and it felt like it would be right to move her hips so she did, pushing herself down onto him with a twisting motion that set something ringing deep inside her. He gasped, bucking beneath her, and grabbed at her waist.

"Kaoru, oh gods _Kaoru_ – "

One hand, shaking, moved to stroke the same place that he had before, just above where her nether lips parted. A shout ripped wild from her throat as he pressed his thumb against it, stroking. Kaoru fell forward, bracing herself against the futon on either side of his head and her hips _snapped_ down as she ground against him, briefly mindless. Kenshin fell onto his back, fairly sobbing as he pulled her hard against him. Incoherent praise spilled wildly from his lips; she covered his mouth to swallow them and he buried his fingers in her hair, his hips rolling underneath her.

" _Oh!"_

She'd thrust one way as he did another, and he hit the same place deep within her that he'd touched on the porch, the place that filled her head with blinding white. Not as strong this time, but she had the sense of it now and – yes, there it was, again. Kaoru pushed back against him, reaching for it, and the world seemed to expand a little with every thrust, pleasure winding tighter and tighter until she thought she would burst out of her skin –

Climax seized and shook her, no less intense for all she'd known, this time, what was coming. Kenshin let out a sound that was very nearly a whimper, and suddenly his hands were tight around her waist and he pushed up into her, once, twice before he let out a strangled sob, pulsing hot and hard inside her as his back arced like a bow. Then he collapsed, curling his arms around her and shaking.

"Kaoru," he murmured, low and loving. "Ah, Kaoru." His fingers stroked warmly down her spine.

She was shivering a little herself, with the cool night air and the knowledge of what had just happened. They were married, now, truly married, and she was no longer a maiden; he was her husband in every way. _No turning back_ , she thought, half-dazed, and her throat thickened as she buried her face in his neck.

"…you're trembling," he said quietly.

"It's a little cold." She shifted on top of him, feeling him soften inside her. Kenshin kissed her, gently, and started to ease himself out from under her. Kaoru let him go, feeling queerly empty when he left her.

He didn't go far – just to unfold the blanket at the foot of the bed and cover her with it, pressing a kiss to her temple as he tucked her in.

"Do you want anything else?"

"…no." Kaoru burrowed under the blankets, half-melted, and couldn't stop her eyes from drooping. His fingers stroked once through her hair and she let her eyes slide shut, contented.

"Then one will retire for the evening," he said quietly, and there was cold air were his warmth had been. She forced her eyes open as confusion lanced through her, raising herself up on one arm.

"…what?"

He hesitated, his eyes glowing in the shadows, and looked at her with such fierce love and tenderness that she could hardly believe she had ever thought it might be anything else. And she didn't quite feel the same way, knew that she didn't – but there was something soft and fierce swelling in her throat, in the newly empty place just under her heart.

"One does not… wish to impose, that is…" Kenshin looked away, uncertain. His skin was pale in the moonlight.

"You're my _husband_ ," she said impulsively, and took a moment to wonder at how easily she said the words. "You're not _imposing_ …"

She stretched her hand towards him, palm up, and felt more herself than she had ever been.

"Stay."

His eyes widened. Kaoru kept her gaze steady, her hand outstretched and, after a long pause, he took it – delicately, as though he thought she might break. She curled her fingers around his, pulled him closer.

"Kenshin," she said quietly. "Come to bed."

He obeyed, sliding under the covers and twining his limbs around her. His fingers laced through hers; he pressed their joined hands to where his heart beat slow and steady. She settled herself in the crook of his arm, comforted by his warmth and the weight of his arm across her waist.

"There," she murmured, suffused with _rightness_. "That's better."

"…yes," he said, so softly that she almost thought she had imagined it, and the last thing she was aware of before sleep was his surrendering sigh.


	11. and build a heaven in hell's despair

Kaoru dozed, wrapped in soft warmth and a general sense of utter well-being. She wasn't quite awake yet and didn't want to be: it was nice here, comfortable and peaceful, and her limbs were pleasantly heavy.

Someone stroked her hair lightly. _Tae_ , she thought, and turned her head to bury her face in her pillow with a mild grumble. She felt too good to really be cranky.

"Go 'way, too early to wake up…"

"Honored wife." Kenshin's voice was low, tender and amused. "One did tell you it would be an early start, as one recalls…"

Oh. Yes. His surprise, the one he'd asked permission to give her – which made sense, in an odd sort of way, and in another way was rather silly. Didn't it spoil the point of a surprise if you knew that a surprise was coming? On the other hand, she'd be much less inclined to wake up this early if she didn't know there was a good reason, even though she didn't know precisely what the reason was…

Kaoru blinked her eyes open, content to let her mind wander. Her husband smiled down at her. She returned it, unthinking, and pushed herself up on her elbows. The blanket slid down her back, bunching at her waist. It _was_ early, just after dawn, and the pale morning light set gold highlights shimmering in his autumn hair.

"Good morning." His voice was hushed. "Kaoru."

It had been a week since the night of the festival, and he still said her name like it was a privilege.

"Good morning, Kenshin." He was already dressed for travel. She felt a slight pang at that; she'd come to like seeing him in the early morning, soft and disheveled with sleep. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready." There was a tray of tea-things at his side. He picked up the clay pot and poured her a cup. The clean scent pricked at her senses, waking her further. "Here."

Their fingertips brushed as she took the cup from his hands and he blushed, lightly, no more than a slight reddening under his flower-petal eyes. It struck her, suddenly, how backwards the whole thing was – it had always been Mother who brought Father his morning tea, who colored as he looked at her tenderly, and she had assumed it would be the same for her. Wives served their husbands; husbands adored their wives. She thought vaguely that it should bother her to see her husband in the wifely role, and yet…

Kaoru couldn't seem to stop smiling as she sat up to sip her tea. It didn't feel wrong: something about him kneeling at her bedside filled her with a fierce sort of aching fondness, made her want to grasp his hand and draw him onto the futon beside her, early start be damned.

"You might dress for riding, if you wish," he said diffidently. "It's not precisely custom, but – if you prefer, there's no need to use the palanquin, should it be the case that you'd rather ride, that is…"

"Oh." It was Kaoru's turn to flush a little, with pleasure rather than shyness. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "If you wish."

"I think I would." Her heart danced in her chest, her smile deepening. It had been too long since she'd ridden – women didn't, generally speaking. They walked, or were carried, or most preferably didn't leave home at all. Her father had never cared for that rule, but her uncle had: she hadn't been on a horse since he'd taken over the clan. "Thank you."

"It's nothing." His eyes lightened with pleasure as he spoke. Her free hand was sitting in her lap; he took it carefully in his own, rubbing an idle circle over the back of it with his thumb. Warm sparks raced up her arm. "One should go now, to finish the preparations."

She hummed, sipping a little too quickly at her tea, and squeezed his hand. "All right, then. I'll be ready soon."

"Take your time." With a small, shy smile, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles and left.

~*~

Kaoru shivered as she upended the rinse-bucket over her head. The water was cool, as befitted the warm weather, but it was early enough that the air hadn't quite heated and so it came as a shock on her naked skin, waking her up quite as thoroughly as the tea had. She shook her head, exhaling hard, and twisted the water out of her hair.

She _could_ have a soak… except that Kenshin had seemed so nervous yesterday, asking if she would accompany him on a trip outside the city.

"Just for the day," he'd said. "One – would like you to meet someone, that I would." She'd asked who, but he hadn't wanted to say. "One had hoped to surprise you," he'd added quickly. "If it's not an inconvenience, that is." His fingers had twined restlessly around each other.

And he'd smiled as he said it, the shy half-smile that meant he was hoping something would make her happy, so how could she possibly have said no?

It was strange, she thought as she toweled herself dry, how married life was both more and less than she had expected. She'd woken before Kenshin did on the morning after their wedding night and lain in his arms for a long while, heart pounding in her ribcage. Because there was always the chance – because things would be _different,_ now that they were truly man and wife.

He'd tightened his arms around her as he woke, drawing her close, and when his eyes cracked open – narrow slits that widened in disbelief as he saw her face, softening into awe – she'd smiled in relief. Because he still looked at her the way he always did.

"Good morning." Her hands had been curled between them, resting on his arm as it cradled her head.

"Ah." The sigh escaping his lips had been one of a man putting down a heavy burden, and he'd returned her smile as he brushed back a strand of her hair. His touch had made her shiver pleasantly. "That it is."

There had been a pot of tea waiting outside her bedroom, on a tray with two cups. Tae didn't miss much.

Life had carried on, though it seemed to her that the world itself should alter in recognition of what had happened – that something should be different, and something _was_ – but nothing was. Kenshin still spoke with her before he made decisions regarding the province, still sat by her side and learned every night as they worked through the papers and the business of the day. Just as they had before.

Although…

Guilt stabbed suddenly into her, small and gnawing. He came to her with everything – and she still had things that she kept from him. Like Jineh's mysterious employer, 'Whitehair;' she'd sent Misao a letter asking her to look into it. But she hadn't told her husband yet.

It wasn't that she didn't intend to, ever, it was just that… she'd sent the letter before Tanabata, so if she told him about Whitehair, she would probably have to explain about Misao and – it wasn't _wrong_ , to want to keep something in her corner just in case, was it? Even with all that had changed – and so much had changed…

The space between them had shifted in the week since Tanabata eve; the chasm between them, once so impassably large, was knitting itself closed. It wasn't that either of them said or did anything different, now – at least, she didn't think so – but it seemed that every day there was something _new_. A certain tilt of his head, or way of smiling; a laugh or a crinkle in the corner of his eyes… things that she hadn't seen before, hadn't wanted to see – small, endearing things that made her smile just remembering.

And every night…

She blushed, drawing her robe over her shoulders. He had spent every night of the past week in her bed, because she'd wanted him there – after business was done for the evening she would invite him to join her in a cup of tea. Things would go on from there, though only at her behest; he was still reluctant to make assumptions, even now. Although it wasn't as if they _always_ … some nights they'd only kissed for a long, long time, until they fell so gradually into sleep that she couldn't remember where the waking world ended and her dreams began.

Which was another thing that wasn't quite as she'd envisioned. There was so much more to – _that_ – than the things that could make children. That was only a very small part: the rest was… closeness, lips and skin and hands twining together, warm voices murmuring in the candlelight…

Kaoru wrapped her arms hard around herself for a moment, smiling like a fool.

It wasn't as if she'd even heard from Misao yet, aside from an acknowledgement that the letter was received and that they were looking into it. It might not be anything at all. And she knew Kenshin was still investigating the Black Hat, so it wasn't as if he might not stumble across it on his own…

She'd wait and see what Misao found, first. Then she'd decide what to do with the information.

Kaoru nodded firmly, content in her resolution.

Then she went to finish getting ready for the day.

~*~

The cool burned off soon enough, and the heat was just beginning to build when Kaoru stepped onto the front porch, dressed for riding. Kenshin was already in the courtyard, feeding bits of fruit to Mouse as he waited. The old mare flicked a single ear towards Kaoru, then away, dismissing her entirely. There was a second horse nearby, held by a nervous-looking stableboy – a fine-looking bay who took in the world with a unflinching calm, his head high and his eyes bright with intelligence.

"Honored husband," Kaoru called out. "I'm ready."

Kenshin looked up just as Mouse lipped the last slice from his hand.

"Honored wife," he said, patting the mare absently on the nose as he walked to where she stood on the front porch. "One did take the liberty of choosing a horse – though, if you would prefer another, of course…"

He trailed off, throat working nervously as he gestured towards the bay. Kaoru smiled, stepping into her sandals and off the porch. The hakama she'd pulled on over her kimono to preserve her modesty as she rode swished familiarly around her legs.

"He looks like a fine animal." She walked over and introduced herself, stretching out her hand for the gelding's inspection. The bay sniffed it with the inquisitive air of an old scholar inspecting a document. When he raised his head to breathe on her in greeting she breathed politely back, smiling at his courtesy. He chuffed at her, ducking his head, and let her run a hand down his neck. "Very calm. We'll be fine, I think."

"That's good." Kenshin was only a step behind her. For a dizzy moment she wanted to lean back against him and fold his arms around her, cuddle up against his lean warmth and forget everything – but they _were_ in public, so she didn't.

"Where are the guards?" she asked instead, trying not to blush.

"One thought we might do without, for today," Kenshin said. His voice was lower and more intimate than the sentence required. She thought that maybe he felt it, too, the urge to cleave to one another and never let go, and the thought set her stomach fluttering madly. "There's no real danger, all things considered – unless you'd rather go with an escort, that is."

There was a longing in his voice, despite his words: uncertain and wistful. He fretted endlessly over the lives in his care, even – especially – when there was little he could do to help them. She supposed it must be a burden for him to cart about an honor guard that he didn't need, whose safety he would feel responsible for. To be surrounded by people duty-bound to give their life unnecessarily… after all, anything dangerous enough to be a real threat to him would make short work of his guards.

And it had been a long, long time since she had gone riding alone. Custom could only stretch so far, after all; for all her father's efforts, her life had become increasingly circumscribed by duty and tradition as she'd grown from a child to a young lady. And after his death, what little liberty she'd had had come completely to an end. Her uncle had taken custody of her until she could be passed to her new husband, and he believed quite firmly that a woman's place was always in the home.

Her heart quickened a little, her bones itching for freedom: to run as far and as fast as her horse would take her, the horizon stretching on forever.

"I'd like that," she said softly, turning to face him. She wouldn't be completely alone – Kenshin would be with her – but she didn't think he'd mind, somehow, if she wanted to race the sun across the sky. And if he didn't mind, what right did anyone have to object? Custom cut both ways, after all: if her lord husband wanted her to ride with him, then she must, and no one but them needed to know that what was between them ran deeper than wifely obedience.

"Truly?" His eyes brightened as he searched her face, hopeful, the ever-present worry in his eyes temporarily receeding. Kaoru touched his wrist lightly, not quite holding his hand.

"Truly. I know we'll be fine," she added, impulsively, and delighted in the smile that wreathed his face.

~*~

They rode for most of the morning as the sun climbed higher and the day grew hotter. The sky above was a deep, brilliant blue; the rainy season had finally passed, and the smothering humidity of late summer lay like a blanket over the landscape. The road ahead shimmered in the heat, and they kept their pace slow for the sake of the horses. Kaoru drank from her waterskin more times than was seemly, perhaps – but being on a horse again had filled her with a bubbling recklessness she'd thought had burned away with her father's body, eaten by the flames. She didn't _care_ what anyone thought; it was hot and she was thirsty.

It took almost half the morning just to get outside Edo. It wasn't the size – though Edo was vast, much more so than the town surrounding Hito Castle – so much as it was the _crowds_. Kaoru had only passed through the city twice before: once to her uncle's new manor in the city and the second time in her wedding procession. Both times she'd been in a palanquin, her vision restricted by the small windows and crossed with bars, and both times she'd been too wrapped in her own thoughts to really look around. So she hadn't really realized how busy a place it was. Even Kenshin's two swords brought them only a touch more space to maneuver through the seething crowds that walked its narrow streets. His red hair might have brought them more, but he'd hidden it under a straw hat. Kaoru wore one too, to ward off the sun.

With no honor guard or crest marking their rank they passed almost unnoticed. Samurai were a common enough sight, after all. A few desultory bows came their way, but by and large the children of Edo went about their business with no more than a brief, vague wariness as they rode by.

Kaoru found it strange. Even when she'd had her freedom, she'd never ventured outside the town unescorted, and everyone there knew that she was her father's daughter. To be treated as just another face was… well, it wasn't _unpleasant_. Yes, she got a few strange looks, when someone saw far enough to realize that she was a woman, but then their eyes would skid over to Kenshin riding at her side and the gawkers would shrug, disinterested.

Strange. But also freeing.

"Where are we going?" she asked Kenshin as they waited in line at the city gate. "Or would that ruin the surprise?"

"A little ways outside the city," he said, rummaging in his sleeve for their passes. The line was moving at a steady clip: no one wanted to be standing out in this heat for longer than they had to. "We should be there by noon, that we should. Ah, here they are."

He presented the wooden passes. The guard took them, boredom dripping from his face; then, as he read them, his face paled and he glanced up, staring just for a moment. Kenshin seemed to tense.

Kaoru nudged her bay a little closer, not quite brushing against her husband's side. The guard swallowed and waved them through without further comment.

"Well, that's done it," Kaoru remarked, when they were far enough away that the guard couldn't overhear. She couldn't quite stop the giggle before it escaped. "I wonder what the gossips will make of _that!_ "

"Gossip?" Kenshin looked at her, blinking in confusion.

"It doesn't matter." She waved a hand airily. "Father used to say that people will _always_ find something to talk about. And you must admit, it's a little unusual, a high lady riding somewhere with no escort but her husband."

"One didn't think of it that way, that I did not." Worry laced his voice and she glanced over at him. He toyed with the slack of Mouse's reins. "One is – accustomed to being thought strange, so I am, and so one didn't think… if it's a question of your reputation…"

Kaoru snorted.

"What reputation?" She reached over, careful to keep her balance, and covered his restless hands with her own for a brief moment. "I'm a war bride from a defeated clan, sold into marriage so my uncle can keep what little power we have left." _Sold to the shōgun's demon_ , she thought but didn't say, _just another sacrifice_. There was no point in saying it: she knew it wasn't true, and he knew as well as she did what his reputation was. "That's not even getting into how my father raised me! It wasn't exactly a secret, you know: Lord Kamiya's wild daughter. People were never going to think much of me in the first place, so what does it matter? I've always known I'd have to earn their respect in other ways."

Kenshin was very quiet for a while. The sun beat down on the trees above them, dappling the road with sunlight and shadow. The leaves were a transparent green, like fine-carved gems.

"…one does not think of you that way," he said finally. His voice was soft.

"I know that," she said gently. "Don't worry so much, okay? You can't control what people say."

"Ah." He tilted his head back a little, watching the sunlight play through the leaves. "That's so. But still, one would – one wishes that others might see the truth, that I do."

Kaoru smiled at him.

"That's all that matters, isn't it?" she said, quietly. "You know the truth. And so do I." _You're not a monster, no more than I'm a reckless, unchaste hoyden_. But she didn't say it, because it didn't need to be said.

His eyes were deep as he looked at her for a long moment, nearly a true purple. Like the edge of the sky just as the sun slid below the horizon, the last vestige of day yielding to the oncoming night.

"One… is grateful for that," he said finally, throat working as he swallowed. "To know the truth, that is."

"As am I." She pulled lightly on the reins, stopping. They'd come to a fork in the road. "Now, which way do we go?"

"This way." He gestured. Kaoru nudged her bay forward again, starting down the road, and Kenshin followed just a beat behind her.

~*~

The day passed smoothly; no one interrupted them on their journey. Not that there were that many people to interrupt. Wherever Kenshin was taking her was far off the beaten path, almost as isolated as Master Oguni's forest retreat. Once they left the outskirts of Edo they passed only one village, right before Kenshin led them down a forest road.

The sun stood at the apex of the sky when he finally halted outside what looked to Kaoru like just another stretch of forest. Then she looked a little closer and saw the game-trail running threadlike between the trees.

"We should go on foot from here, that we should," Kenshin said, apologetically. "There's space enough to lead the horses, but the branches hang low. It's easier to walk, so it is, and it's not that far."

"That's fine." Kaoru dismounted with him, stumbling a little as muscles no longer accustomed to long riding grumbled in protest. "I wouldn't mind stretching my legs."

"Let's go, then." Gathering Mouse's reins in his hand, he led her down the path.

It was overgrown, as he'd said: not quite wild, but certainly a bit tricky to navigate. The forest grew thicker as they went further in, blocking out the sky with layer upon layer of whispering leaves. Kaoru thought about asking, again, where Kenshin was taking her – but he kept glancing over his shoulder at her, holding aside branches and underbrush and almost vibrating with tension, caught somewhere between trepidation and excitement just as he'd been the other night, when he'd broached the subject of the surprise to her. Whatever he had planned was important to him, so she tamped down her curiosity and followed.

After a few minutes the narrow trail opened into a clearing with a small house tucked in one corner. The scent of baking clay and iron filled the air, and Kaoru's eyes were drawn inexorably to the shining, naked blades laid carefully out on the undyed cloth covering a small table in front of the forge that stood just far enough away from the hut that it wasn't quite visible at first glance. It was a low, sprawling structure, sheltered from rain and lit only by the glow of the fires.

A man strode out from the shadows. He was stocky, his hair pulled low and tight against the nape of his neck. Intense eyes glared at the world with a hawkish assessment: absolute, accurate, and utterly disinterested.

"There you are, Himura," he said, wiping his hands on the towel stuck in belt. "On time, as always."

"One could hardly do otherwise, after you're being put to so much trouble…" Kenshin sounded apologetic.

"Well, that's still to be decided, isn't it?" He turned that ferocious gaze on Kaoru, bowing halfheartedly. She returned it with a little more courtesy, heart skipping in confusion. Was this Kenshin's surprise, then? This man – this swordsmith, she had to assume, by the nature of the goods on display.

"If one might introduce my honored wife, Lady Kaoru Himura." Kenshin stumbled a little as he introduced her, blushing faintly. It was the first time she'd ever heard herself called by her new name. Lady Himura didn't count; that was someone else.

It didn't sound quite as bad as she'd expected.

"Honored wife, this is Arai Shakku, an old friend of my master's. One inquired, some days ago, whether he would be willing – if you wish, that is – to forge a new set of swords for you. To replace the ones you dedicated to the gods, that is." Kenshin was holding the Mouse's reins a little too tightly, nerves evident in the quick jump of the pulse in his throat.

Blood whirled in Kaoru's veins; her head lightened in shock, that he would – but then, Kenshin had offered, hadn't he? Weeks ago, back in Hito – saying that it wasn't right for a warrior to go unarmed – she'd never thought he would _remember_ , and this…

"I – I've heard of your work," she managed to say. Heard of it – ha! One of the great masters of the age, so he was called, and Kenshin greeted him as an old friend, and had asked him – asked him –

"I couldn't," she said suddenly, turning to her husband as the blood pounded in her wrists. "It's too much."

But her hands ached with the remembered weight of steel, yearning.

"One hardly thinks so." His voice was soft, though he fumbled with the words, his eyes deep and gentle as he looked at her in that way he had, that made her breath catch in her throat. "One never – under the circumstances, that is, it appeared that perhaps the time was right for a truer bridal gift than was previously given. That it did."

He seemed to lean towards her, not quite reaching out to touch her hand.

"Husband…" It was hard to speak past the swelling in her throat. "I…"

Shakku was watching them with interest, examining without rendering judgment. His calm study almost made things worse: her heart _hurt_ , to think of wearing swords at her side again, to be _armed_ and not defenseless – if she'd had blades that day in the field, true swords, not just the small dagger hidden inside her dress –

Kenshin's eyes searched her face, worried. Always worried, even after all she'd said and done. "Is this – not suitable?"

Kaoru swallowed, a little shakily.

"No," she said. "No. This is – thank you, honored husband."

He smiled, soft and relieved.

"Well then," Shakku turned his attention away from them. Kaoru took a quick, silent breath, glad for the reprieve. "Let's go inside and eat, shall we? Boy!"

A nervous-looking young man, all rawboned length and gawky angles, poked his head out of the shadows of the forge.

"Yes, honored father?"

"Finish up in there, then come join us."

"Yes, honored father!" And he disappeared back into the forge.

"Come along, you two," Shakku said, waving them onward as he strode towards the house. "It's been a long morning, I'm hungry."

The house was small, simple, and comfortable; not entirely what Kaoru had expected. Shakku's wife was a plump, cheerful woman who served a hearty meal and then vanished along with her son into another room, leaving the three of them alone – though not before winking reassuringly at Kaoru and jerking her head slightly towards her husband with an indulgent grin. The meaning was clear: _don't be worried_.

Kaoru wasn't worried. Just slightly intimidated.

They ate in silence, focusing on the food. It was really very good, if simple: Shakku apparently wasn't one for artistic flourishes in any area of his life. His blades were known for their exquisite simplicity. Other, lesser smiths might waste time and energy creating ripples in the steel like waves on the shore, or etch elaborate, personalized designs in the steel. Shakku did not. A sword forged by him was exactly what it appeared to be: a weapon, and an excellent one.

Shakku exhaled heavily after he finished, pushing the tray slightly away.

"Many thanks for the meal."

"Miss Nariko's food is always delicious, that it is," Kenshin put down his chopsticks. "It was a feast."

"Oh. Yes." Kaoru caught up with them. She hadn't eaten much, but then again, she hadn't been very hungry. "It was lovely."

"So. Lady Himura..." Shakku focused on her again, ignoring his wife as she ducked quietly in to clear the plates. "Lord Kamiya was your father, correct? The former lord of Hito province?"

"Yes, that's right." She couldn't guess where he was going with this.

He made a contemplative noise. "A good man, from what I've heard. A fair man. Kenshin tells me he taught you swordsmanship?"

"Some." Kaoru hesitated. "He didn't always have time to oversee my daily practice, so Sir Muraki or one of the other men would step in. But he tested me, and he always made time at least once a week to train me personally."

"Ah." Shakku nodded. "What did he teach you, then? How did he rate your skill?"

"Well enough." She couldn't quite squash her indignation at the question. "And it wasn't just him, you know – I was better than most of the boys my age. Top ten, at least."

"So you didn't train alone."

"Of course not. You can only learn so much from shadowboxing."

He raised an eyebrow at her, his face giving no hint of his thoughts. "So your father expected you to use what he taught you."

"If I had to, yes."

"Have you?"

"No."

"Would you?"

"To defend myself, or someone in trouble – yes." Kaoru raised her chin slightly, meeting his hawkish stare with what she hoped was cool equanimity. "Absolutely."

"No other circumstances?" There was challenge in his voice.

"Under what other circumstances would it be necessary to draw a sword?"

He shrugged eloquently. "For honor. For vengeance. For the sheer pleasure of it. The reasons are as different as the men who wield them."

"None of those reasons are good enough – " she began to say, hotly, and then fell silent as she remembered the small, deadly weight of poison in her hand. The smell of it – slightly acrid – masked by the richness of the tea.

Her fingers itched.

"Aren't they?" Shakku seemed to be smiling as he said it. Kenshin watched her carefully, not quite alarmed. Not yet.

"No." Kaoru dug her hands into her skirts. "For honor, or vengeance… yes. Maybe. If the crime was great enough." The warmth of the liquid against her skin as she stirred the poison in. "If I was hurt badly enough. I would _want_ to, but – "

And the look in her husband's eyes when he'd sworn to keep her safe. How the poisoned tea had glimmered in the sunlight, falling from the cup to soak the ground below.

"…but I don't think I'd be able to, in the end." She couldn't keep a certain sorrow from her voice. "No matter how much it hurt."

"Interesting." Shakku's eyes were bright, studying her like the artist he was, and she felt no malice in it. "Very interesting. Well, then," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let me show you the forge, and we'll talk a little further."

The hour they spent in Shakku's forge passed quickly. He asked more probing questions, though none that struck quite as deeply as his first ones. Kaoru felt peculiarly exposed, afterwards, as if he'd cracked her open and had a good look around her insides, evaluating the space and materials he had to work with. Kenshin hovered nervously a little ways away, politely pretending to be fascinated by the odds and ends of Shakku's workspace. It felt more comfortable than she'd thought it would to have him close by.

It was Shakku who declared an end to the interview, saying that he'd made up his mind.

"I'll accept the commission," he declared, "if you're willing. I don't know if I'll have the chance to forge for a swordswoman again, the way things are headed – I can't pass up the opportunity. You're a dying breed," he said, matter-of-factly. "More's the pity."

"I would be honored." Kaoru bowed. Her blood danced a little in her veins, fizzing with excitement.

"And you can stop fretting." Shakku was addressing Kenshin, now, who made a wordless, protesting gesture. "You know as well as I do that the old man wouldn't have approved of this lordship nonsense… but I don't think he'd find fault with the lady."

There was a certain twinkle in Shakku's eye as he spoke. Kenshin ducked his head, grinning a little too hard – he was embarrassed.

"Old man? You and he were the same age, one recalls…" He blinked innocently back up at Shakku.

"Go on with you," the swordsmith ordered, glaring down his nose. "And try not to make a nuisance of yourself!"

"Yes, sir." Chuckling to himself, Kenshin went to fetch the horses from where Shakku's son had tied them in the shadow of the house. They came only reluctantly, having found a rich patch of clover while they waited.

"He's a decent lad, for all he may sometimes lose his way," Shakku said gruffly, as Kenshin coaxed Mouse away from her feed. "But you know that, I suppose."

"I do." Kaoru wasn't terribly surprised to find that she meant it.

"Keep him steady, and he'll do fine." He seemed to be speaking almost to himself, instead of her; to himself or to some third, unseen presence. Then he nodded, firmly. "He'll do just fine. Pleasure meeting you, Lady Himura," he said, with a bow, and disappeared back into his forge.

They didn't speak much on the way back to the road – Kenshin murmured a warning, once or twice, when the ground was rough, and Kaoru thanked him absently – but mostly they focused on their footing. Kaoru couldn't quite keep a smile from her lips.

"Thank you," she told her husband as they mounted up, back on the road. Relief eased onto his features.

"You're pleased, then?" His eyes were bright.

"Very. It – it isn't just the swords." She blushed, a little, trying to find the words. "It's that – well – it's very thoughtful of you, to remember."

"I remember everything you've told me." He was abruptly serious, brow furrowing as he looked at her as if she was the only thing he could see. "That I do."

"Oh." She couldn't quite meet his eyes. Her blush deepened. "That's. Um. Well. Thank you."

Kenshin's face softened, love and desire glowing in his eyes. The way he looked at her made her feel strange, light and crackling, like a maiden in a story. But not unpleasant. Far from it.

"It's no trouble at all."

Warmed, she nudged the bay forward.

~*~

The day had stayed clear and bright, though the heat had lessened as the sun passed her peak. The air was warm and soothing, and birds called to each other across the trees, chattering the day's affairs. Her horse's gait was smooth underneath her, and the man beside her – her husband – loved and understood her.

For the first time since her father had gone to war, Kaoru was content. Not happy – not yet – but then, happiness was too rare a thing to ask for.

The farmers in the village on the outskirts of the forest acknowledged them with cursory bows, as they had before, then bent themselves back to their fields.

"Weeding," Kenshin remarked.

"Weeding?"

He flushed, and she realized that he hadn't intended to speak aloud.

"It's summer, that it is," he stammered, "so the chore that must be done is weeding. Every day, without fail, until the harvest comes."

There was weariness in his voice, underneath his startlement. She giggled.

"It sounds exhausting."

"It is," he answered, without thinking, and turned bright red. "Not that one would know! Never having farmed, that is."

Her husband was a terrible liar. She tucked the information away for future reference.

"You know, a lot of the samurai in Hito help out the farmers in their villages, when they're shorthanded." Kaoru kept her voice casual, for the sake of his dignity; more samurai families helped in their village's fields than anyone acknowledged, but it was still seen as shameful. "It's not precisely the done thing, I know, but it's practical; everyone suffers if the crop fails, and it's silly not to put strong backs to work when it's necessary. At least, that's what Father always said, when someone protested being sent out as relief."

"Truly?" Kenshin seemed startled. "That's very sensible."

Kaoru nodded. "Probably a few people are hoping you'll stop doing it," she said off-handedly.

"It seems a reasonable custom," he murmured.

"Father always thought so." Kaoru shrugged. "After all, it was only a generation ago that farmers were allowed to carry weapons, and society didn't collapse. Now that times are peaceful, there's no need for it… but still, the world won't end if a few young samurai with nothing else to do help out in the fields when it's needed."

"That's so." His voice was warm.

"Otherwise they just lounge about and get into trouble."

Kenshin laughed. "You sound like my master."

"Do I?"

He nodded, smiling at her.

"Should I worry?"

"No…" His eyes sparkled, though his voice was hesitant. "You're _much_ prettier than he was."

Immediately after saying it he ducked his head and somehow managed to blush even deeper.

Kaoru's heart danced, giggles bubbling up through her lungs and the fizzing blood in her veins. She gave it voice, laughing too loudly – a lady only tittered gently – but she couldn't bring herself to care. Kenshin grinned shyly at her from under the brim of his hat, his eyes bright.

She gave an exaggerated sniff, sticking her nose in the air. "I should hope so!"

"One would hardly lie about such a thing, that I would not." And his voice was mild, but his eyes shone with happiness, so much so that Kaoru had to look away. A long, open field caught her eye, with a stone wall running across it that was just high enough to keep livestock in. She spurred her horse, seized by a sudden impulse.

"Think I can make that jump?" she asked, and didn't wait for his response. He cried out her name as she raced ahead, the wind catching in her hair.

The bay was a fine, steady creature; he realized what she was doing when they were halfway there and put on an extra burst of speed, hindquarters bunching under her as he pushed off his back legs and soared. She leaned with him, giving him rein, and for a single perfect moment they flew together, weightless, under the brilliant summer sun.

Then he landed, jolting her – it had been _ages_ since she'd jumped – and Kaoru whooped indecorously, whipping off her hat and laughing in relief. Kenshin cantered up beside her, having gone through the half-open gate just a few feet away.

"Honored wife!" he gasped, pale and slightly frantic. "That was – you should be more careful, you should – "

He was close enough that their legs brushed, eyes wide and hair disheveled by his sudden burst of speed. His hat had fallen half off the back of his head; his mouth was round and startled.

"You _worry_ too much, husband," she said, nudging her bay a little closer. "It's not healthy."

She grabbed his collar and kissed him soundly, nerves fluttering at her own daring. But it wasn't as if there was anyone to see, and he was warm and sweet and she loved the way his mouth moved against hers, how his hands reached out to tangle in her hair…

"…Kaoru," he murmured dazedly when she finally released him. She smiled at him, brushing her thumb against the corner of his mouth.

"Race you," she chirped, giddy.

"To where – ?"

But she was already off, urging the bay into a gallop. She heard him laughing, bewildered, and then the pounding of his mare's hooves against the ground as he ran with her.

Kaoru could almost hear his unspoken question – _what's gotten into you?_ – or maybe it wasn't him at all, just echoes of her aunt and uncle, of all the men and boys who'd sneered at Lord Kamiya's wild daughter. And she didn't have an answer for that voice, whoever's voice it was; she never had. She was young, and for this single moment glimmering like a jewel in time she was _free_ of duty and obligation, and this moment had to end, eventually, but it wasn't over yet. For this one moment, she wasn't a war bride, a hostage making the best of things, and he wasn't the husband that she'd never chosen trailing bloody rumor like a half-torn banner. She was just a woman, and he was just a man, and they were running together, neither one quite outpacing the other, sheltered beneath the fearless blue sky.

Kaoru finally slowed a walk along the shores of a pond tucked between the forest and a rising set of hills. Kenshin caught up with her, patting Mouse's neck and murmuring soothing nonsense. The mare shook her head, clearly displeased with having had to exert herself.

"She won't forgive this easily," he muttered. "Lazy thing."

"Tell her it's my fault," Kaoru suggested, laughing. "I'll make it up to her."

"There, did you hear that?" Kenshin leaned over Mouse's neck. The mare snorted. "I don't think she believes you."

He glanced up at Kaoru, his eyes shining deep and clear as the waters next to them. The sudden race had ruffled him further, tugging his kimono loose to leave his chest half-exposed. Seeing his lean, pale body filled her with a kind of brilliant ache: the lines of his chest and the curve of his collarbones, the smooth column of his neck and tender angle of his jaw…

"I'll just have to prove myself, then." Kaoru swung herself off her horse, tying the reins up and out of the way. "Come down here, husband."

Puzzled, he obeyed. Mouse pulled away as soon as her reins were secured, herding the bay up towards the greener grass on the side of the hill.

"I _did_ win the race." Kaoru stepped into him, her hands coming up to rest against his naked skin. He jumped a little at her touch. "So I claim a forfeit."

"Do you, now?" Kenshin's voice was low and rich with wanting, and his hands shook a little as he rested them tentatively at her waist. He always trembled a little when they began, like he couldn't quite believe his own senses.

She hummed an affirmation, twining her arms around his neck. The ache grew inside her, firing her blood, her nerves, filling her with desires: to touch and kiss and see him shuddering beneath her, hear his shaking pant as he came inside her – to have him touching her, filling her, bringing her to that point where everything collapsed into brilliance.

"We'll be late getting home…" he sighed, his lips almost touching hers. His eyes were hooded, dark with the same desire that seized her and made her reckless. "And we're – someone might see…"

"There's no one _to_ see," she murmured, tangling her fingers in his hair. "You worry too much."

Then he was kissing her, or she was kissing him, and it didn't matter which: what mattered was each subtle movement of his mouth against hers, and the way he gasped and trailed kisses down her neck when she tugged lightly at his hair. They lowered themselves to the ground, loosening clothing as they went; the sun was warm above them, their only witness as he bent himself over her and kissed every inch of her breasts. She started to push his kimono over his shoulders, thinking the return the favor, but he caught her hand gently in his.

"What is it?"

"Ah – one's wounds... from the duel…" His voice was apologetic; it took her a moment to realize what he was trying to say.

"Let me see." She sat up, insisting. His eyes were wary.

"Kaoru…"

"You got them for my sake." Kaoru licked her lips, pulling her free arm from her kimono sleeve – it was half-off already – and stroking her hand down his neck to slide inside his collar. "That makes them mine, too."

His eyes slid shut as he busied himself with kissing the palm of her captured hand, but he made no further protest. The soft warmth of his lips against her sensitized skin sent shivers down her arm and straight to her belly, and the look on his face – that look he always had, as though he wanted nothing more in the world than to kiss her hand forever – nearly undid her.

She pulled his kimono down anyway and sucked in a breath.

"They look worse than they are," he mumbled, teeth catching against the sensitive pads of her fingertips. "The doctor says they're healing well."

They'd only made love before by lamplight before, their hands sliding underneath clothing that had come undone and fallen half-away. She'd felt the scars that covered him but not seen them; he was shy about exposing himself. Now, in the sunlight, she could see them clearly. There were so _many_ : thin, shining places where skin pulled tight, white slick ridges that caught beneath her fingernails as she explored the best she could while he was still holding her other hand tight against his questing mouth.

He winced as her fingers found a tender spot.

"Sorry," she whispered. Kenshin shook his head.

"No." He curled one arm around her, pulling her close until she was nearly sitting on his lap. His skin slid against hers, warm and smooth and smelling of sex; her hips moved, surging against him as her blood quickened in her veins. "It's fine. Everything's fine."

"Not so close. I can't reach you this way." She pressed her lips to his temple, combing her fingers though his hair and pulling out the leather thong that held his ponytail. "Here – lie back and let me – "

"Kaoru…"

"Hush." Tender desire swelled in her, natural and uncontrollable as the tides; she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him until he had no more breath to protest. "Let me take care of you."

So many scars. It seemed as if there wasn't an inch of skin left unmarred and she wondered how someone so skilled could take so many near-mortal blows. Part of her wanted to ask. The other part, far stronger, only wanted to stroke each and every one of them until they never hurt again, as if her touch could somehow lessen his old pains. And she didn't know _why_ she wanted it, only that she did.

Kenshin cupped his hands loosely against her shoulderblades, fingers smoothing uneasily over cloth and skin. Kaoru went slowly, seeking out his secrets as he had hers, testing for the places that made him gasp or give a breathy little moan. He always sounded just a little surprised, as if his own body startled him; she couldn't blame him, since she felt much the same. The scent of crushed grass rose around them, clean and bright, mingling with musky desire. His skin tasted of salt, and he rose hot against her belly as she kissed and licked her way across his chest, reveling in how he jumped beneath her.

"Kaoru," he panted, finally. "Please…"

"Yes?" Kaoru hummed against his skin, smiling. She never _meant_ to tease, really – it just sort of happened. He made it so hard to resist.

Kenshin groaned and tightened his arms around her, sitting up to kiss her. His tongue stroked against hers as he buried his hands in her hair, panting, and she slid her legs open to straddle his hips. There was a peculiar desperation in his kiss, as though he thought she might vanish if he opened his eyes.

She curled one hand behind his neck, soothing the other down his spine and around his waist to fumble at his belt. He paused to help her, fingers uncommonly clumsy, then gave up and kissed her again. She smiled into it, pushing him back down onto the grass and their nest of clothing.

"Wait," he gasped, breaking off the kiss. "Wait, please – let me…"

He slid a hand around her hips, supporting her as he rolled them both over, their legs tangling in their half-discarded clothes. She stiffened as she realized what he intended and he stopped halfway, bracing himself on his good arm.

"Is this all right?"

"I – " Her heart hammered a little against her ribs. "Your shoulder."

"It'll be fine." His eyes darkened, searching her face. "If you don't mind, that is…"

"I don't." And she meant it, she realized, laying her fingers across his lips. His gaze was hot and a little wild, and didn't frighten her at all. Because he'd _asked_ – because he would _always_ ask, and that certainty was almost as sweet as his mouth on her breast or the little choked sob he gave when he reached his climax. That he could want her so intensely and nonetheless always, always _wait_ until she told him _yes_ …

Kenshin settled between her legs with a sigh, nipping tenderly at her jaw, and Kaoru slid her hand down his ribs to wrap around his waist. There was a moment of confusion while she figured out what to do with her legs, and then he was kissing her hard and deep as he came inside her, fingers tangling in her hair.

It was different, like this. She couldn't move as freely… but then he pushed one of her legs back towards her shoulder, hooking her knee over his elbow and _oh_ , that didn't matter anymore; they'd found the rhythm and he was caressing that white-hot place inside her every time he moved. She pulled his head down, gasping. He nipped at her shoulder, kissed along her neck and up her jaw and fastened his mouth to hers, desperate and adoring, murmuring her name again and again as he kissed her.

There it was, that swelling inside, as if she was too big for her skin: a bright swirl of pleasure circling tighter with every stroke. Her fingernails dug into his back, marking him as they moved together, drill and bow kindling the sacred fire.

A sharp flood of pleasure crested over her from head to toe. Kenshin followed a few moments later, throbbing inside her with a strangled moan. His head fell to her breast, the arm that had supported her knee sliding out to curl around her shoulders. She let her legs fall, rubbing against his.

He was breathing hard. She kissed the top of his head, stroking her fingers down his cheek. Sweat had collected in the fine hairs at his temple, darkening the strands there from autumn-leaf to nearly brown. He was warm and solid against her, curled like a sleeping child, and she was content to hold him close.

After a few moments he stirred against her, lifting his head. His eyes were sleepy and soft, blurred with pleasure.

"...is there anything you require?" It had become a ritual for him to ask, and nothing she said had managed to convince him to dispense with it.

"No." She squeezed him a little tighter, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. "But let's stay like this for a while, okay?"

"Ah…" Kenshin's eyes were sliding shut again. He groped for the side of her half-discarded kimono, drawing it up to cover her as he let his head rest on her once more.

"There…" He stifled a yawn. "Forgive me. One has been so… tired lately…" Another yawn, and he nestled down into the crook of her arm.

"Rest," she told him, though his eyes were already closed, his face slackening into sleep. She adjusted her kimono to cover them both, kissing his forehead as he stirred against her. Then she closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around him.

She liked these moments, afterwards, when they lay together in contented languor and the constant worry eased from the delicate lines of his face, leaving only beauty. And he was beautiful, although maybe it was odd to think of her husband in those terms, even with his strange coloring. Beautiful and kind, and determined to be good.

Kaoru kissed his head again and settled a little further.

A bridal gift, because she was truly his bride. Not a dress but a sword, a true blade to honor and serve her warrior's heart. He'd never objected to her practice, but there was a difference between that and encouraging, and he could have so easily _ignored_ that half of her soul, pretended that she was less than who she was. And yet – oh, what had she expected, really? When had he ever, _ever_ expected her to make herself small?

He breathed deep, still sleeping, letting it out in what was almost a sigh. As if he'd heard her.

 _I want to give him something_ , she thought abruptly, and wondered what. Technically, all that she had was his: yet he'd never asked for anything, never taken anything for granted, so she had no idea what he wanted aside from her regard, which he seemed to fear he might lose at any moment. If there was some way, maybe, to reassure him…

Kaoru raised her hand to the light for a moment, studying it.

Her father had sometimes had to travel for months at a time, seeing to the province and meeting with other lords, and every time she was gone her mother had embroidered him a new kimono. One of her earliest memories was of her mother bent over a length of black silk, drawing a glittering thread through the cloth and leaving behind a trail of white so smooth and even that it seemed painted. She'd thought it was magic, and told her mother so; her mother had laughed and fit her small hands around the needle, showing her the way. Her stitches had been jagged, scrabbling things, nothing like her mother's elegant lines. She'd nearly wept, to see the lovely thing ruined.

Her mother had laughed, gently, and told her that it wasn't ruined: this was something done for love, and didn't need to be perfect. Father would remember, every time he saw the ragged bit of white, that his daughter loved him.

She'd gotten quite good at sewing and embroidery, as she'd grown older. Not as good as her mother had been, but good enough: it was calm, meditative work, stitching up her feelings and hopes to clothe the people she cared most for.

A deep blue silk might suit Kenshin – very deep, the color of a shaded forest pool, like the one they lay beside. With maybe a touch of pine-green. Nothing bright; his hair was bright enough. And a pattern of maple leaves in silver across the shoulders, with water or maybe leaping carp along the hem…

Her family's sigil was a maple leaf.

Kaoru smiled fondly at her sleeping husband. Laying back, she closed her eyes and began to think of where she might find the right materials.

~*~

Kenshin dozed, half-aware of his surroundings. The horses were grazing nearby; he could hear them huffing, feel the light vibrations of their steps against the ground. The sun was warm against his face, heating the kimono's silk; Kaoru was warm in his arms, her skin soft against his. The scent of crushed grass and jasmine rose and mingled, drifting across his blissfully empty mind.

Kaoru shifted a little, breathing deep. He tightened his arms around her in sleepy protest. She laughed, softly, and he opened his eyes as her fingers brushed gently through his hair.

"How long?" His tongue was thick with sleep, his head heavy.

"Maybe an hour? You can sleep a little longer," she said, with an indulgent smile.

"No…" It was tempting, though. There was peace here, in the circle of her arms: no endless parade of all he'd done wrong or might have done better chasing his mind in circles as he fell in and out of fits of restless slumber. "We really should be heading back, that we should."

"Or what? We'll miss dinner?" She kissed the top of his head. "You worry too much." Her voice was fond.

"Perhaps…" Would it ever not be miraculous to wake in her arms, with her smile and her voice and her kisses given freely? He'd thought, that first time, that it would be enough – that even if she never wanted him again, at least he would have that night, that memory of her skin and her soft cries and _her_ , warm in his arms… but she had wanted him again, called him back to her bed night after night. The wall she'd maintained so carefully was crumbling, and she didn't seem to care.

He still wasn't sure why. All he was sure of was this: that _she_ was the one who asked, never him – however badly he wanted – and that there was no lie in her when she did. And he knew that memory of her voice when she said _I like your eyes_ was too fragile a thing to hang his hope on, and he knew also that he couldn't help himself.

He wasn't certain. Certainty was too much. But he believed – he had to – that he had learned from all his sins, that he had read the lines of her body truly and that she came _wanting_ to his arms. It was all he had: faith in her, in her actions and her words, in her voice crying out his name and demanding that she believe him.

_I am not afraid of you, and I don't hate you! – if you believe him and not me I will never, ever forgive you!_

He caught one of her hands where it curled against his cheek and kissed her knuckles.

"There's still work to be done."

"We'll do it tomorrow." She laced her fingers through his and he shivered pleasantly, nestling closer to her side. "There's nothing urgent going on."

Her hand curled through his hair, meandered down his spine and then back to the top of his head, her nails catching lightly on his scalp. He kissed her collarbone, feeling vaguely that he should protest more, but the steady rhythm of her hand petting his back and hair was too _nice_ to bother with thinking.

"When did you meet Master Shakku?" Kaoru's voice was curious.

It took him a moment to realize she'd asked a question, and another to comprehend it well enough to answer. And then a third to decide how much to say – not that he didn't want to tell her, but – it was so complicated, explaining. The lies, and the reasons for it; Lord Tokugawa's prescience in realizing the extent to which Lord Toyotomi planned to change the laws governing the four classes, the need to avoid alienating his other retainers… going through it all would have spoiled things. And…

And he still wasn't sure what she would think, if he told her. Her family was old and rich in dignity; compared to her, he had so very little to his name.

"…he was a friend of one's master, that he was," Kenshin said finally, tucking their joined hands to his heart. "One must have been… eleven, one would think. Or twelve, perhaps. One isn't quite sure."

"Not sure?"

The lie fell too easily from his lips: after all, it wasn't _really_ a lie. Just… not the whole truth.

"My family died when I was very young," he said, and it barely hurt to think of; just a twinge in his gut, an old memory of pain. "Raiders – this was before Lord Nobunaga's peace, when the warlords were constantly fighting. I don't remember who they were fighting for. There was an injury – one's head – " he raised his hand, briefly forgetting that it held hers, and gestured towards his temple. There was a scar there, long-faded. "One's memories are somewhat vague."

Kaoru paused in her caresses. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need." He kissed her hand again, burrowing a little closer. "It was a long time ago, that it was."

And very far from here, where she held him close.

"So your master took you in?" She curled her arm around his waist, holding him tight.

"Yes." A light breeze whispered past them, shivering the trees. "He found me – almost everything had been destroyed, and with one's own memories uncertain…"

"You don't really know how old you are," she finished for him.

"Not exactly, no." He shifted uncomfortably against her. "Though one is surely not much older than thirty."

He thought she smiled, a little, and her fingers played over his skin. "What happened then?"

Kenshin sighed, drifting back through time and memory: to the waterfall and the mountain hut, bruises and bloody palms and his master's voice, stern and uncompromising: _faster. More precision. Don't hesitate_. _Hesitation means death_. _Be sure, even if you truly aren't._

That same voice cutting through nightmares of fire and steel and bloody screams, telling him gruffly to go back to sleep; it was only a dream, and no raider would dare to come here. His larger hands, rough and calloused, showing him the proper way to wrap bandages, to hold a brush and slice a radish – _may as well learn something useful_ , he'd snort, _since you're hopeless at the sword…_

The pride and grief in his eyes as the light had faded from them.

 _This is the destiny between master and student of our style. You've done well, Kenshin_.

And the fire consuming his body, carrying the ashes away on the mountain wind.

"One's master died when one was perhaps fifteen," he said, voice only wavering a little. "The rest is – is well known, so it is."

He didn't think past then. Didn't let himself go further, into memories of dark eyes and a subtle smile, and bloodstains on the tatami floor. Instead he only held his wife a little tighter.

"So it is…" she echoed, and he thought for a moment that he smelled salt on the breeze. Then she sniffed. "It's getting chilly."

The shadows from the forest had lengthened, cooling the ground where they lay. Kenshin sat up, careful to keep her covered.

"Should we be going, then?"

"Probably." Kaoru smiled at him, propping herself up on her elbows. Her eyes seemed a little red – or maybe it was only a trick of the light. He studied her for a moment – he'd never seen her fully in the daylight before. She was even more beautiful, somehow, than by lamplight: clear and straight and strong, utterly comfortable in her skin. Her soul shone through her movement, her eyes, the bend of her wrist and the strength of her chin, too brilliant to be contained by mortal flesh.

He slid out from their makeshift blanket and wrapped it around her, clothing her so swiftly that she laughed, startled.

"What was that for?"

"The sun might be jealous," he murmured in her ear, holding tight around her waist. "And then Ama-no-Uzume will be cross with us for undoing all her hard work, that she will."

"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" Her voice was rich with amusement. "Where's my sash?"

"Here."

They dressed slowly, in fits and starts – it was difficult, when he kept realizing there was some part of her that needed to be kissed and she couldn't seem to keep her fingers out of his hair. They couldn't find his hairtie so he had to leave it down; Kaoru pouted and called him a terrible distraction. He apologized, laughing, and made up for it by catching both the horses.

~*~

It was very late when they finally arrived home, late enough that Tae shook her head and asked, sardonically, if she should restart the kitchen fire. She'd extinguished it, presuming – based on the delay – that they had been caught somewhere overnight, and had expected to receive a message from them to that effect in the morning. Kaoru turned bright red, Kenshin stammered out an apology, and Tae smiled slightly, her wayward charges suitably chastened, before informing them that their evening meal would be served shortly and striding away.

Kaoru winced as she knelt in the dining room, settling her weight carefully on her calves.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing." She shifted, pain flitting across her face. "I'm just a little sore. It's been a while since I was on horseback."

"Will you have a bath, then?" he asked. "One can surely do at least some of the paperwork alone…"

She laughed. "It _can_ wait till tomorrow, husband! Really. There's nothing important in the pile – I checked."

"If you're sure…" He didn't doubt her, really. But, selfish fool that he was, even after a day like today he still craved her company, still wanted to fall asleep tangled in her arms. The thought of skipping their evening routine – of missing a single moment, however small – dug into his heart like a thorn.

 _Idiot_ , he told himself firmly, and buried the desire to ask again.

She started to say something more, and then Tae and one of the younger maids came in with covered trays. Kaoru asked Tae to heat up the tub and dug in quickly, with every sign of relish. Kenshin was startled to find that he had an appetite, for a change. He savored the meal, tasting it fully, and felt truly sated when it was done.

"That was _good_ ," Kaoru said, pushing the tray away and hauling herself gingerly to her feet. She stretched, rising up on the balls of her feet. "I'm for a soak. See you in a bit."

"In a bit?"

"Well, yes," she said, halfway out the door. She turned back for a moment, face suddenly clouded. "If you want, I mean."

 _If I want_. Ridiculous caveat. When would he not?

"I'll – I'll prepare some tea, then," he said, throat dry.

"Yeah." She smiled at him, and the world was sunlit. "Tea's good."

He didn't want to bother the maids any more at this late hour, so he made it himself; a kitchen was a kitchen, and before his unasked-for elevation to the highest of the peerage he'd preferred to fend for himself. Rank brought privileges and obligations; when he had been posing as a mere Sir he had been permitted to live simply. Lords, however, were not.

Some cool barley tea would be the thing, he thought, and set the water to boil. It needed to be hot for the infusion, but there would be plenty of time for it to settle while Kaoru bathed. Now he just needed to find the barley…

"Can I help you, my lord?"

Kenshin nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard Tae approaching at all, which was worrying although not precisely unusual. The woman was half-cat.

"Ah – that is – one was only looking for some tea, that is…"

"Here, my lord." In two quick strides she had knelt and opened a cupboard. "What was my lord's desire?"

"Um – some barley, if you please…"

Wordlessly, she stood and handed it over.

"Thank you."

"You might add a sprig of mint." Was he hearing things, or was there a hint of amusement in her voice.

"…mint?"

"My lady prefers a touch of it – just a touch," she said, blandly. "Mint is a clarifying herb: very good for those situations in which the way seems clouded, or unclear."

"Ah…" he fumbled, holding the packet of tea in front of him in a vague, hopeless defense and wondering, not for the first time, why this woman terrified him so.

Well, aside from his absolute conviction that if she ever disapproved of how he was treating his wife he'd end up with a dagger in his throat. Which was a fairly good reason to be terrified, all things considered…

"One will keep that in mind, that I will." There didn't seem to be anything else to say.

She nodded in a way that made him feel quite shabby and small.

"Please let me know if you require further assistance, my lord," she said with a bow, and began to walk away.

"Wait!" he called out, on impulse. Tae had been at Kaoru's side since she was a child, had watched her grow up – if anyone would know – "That is, one does have a question, that I do. If you've the time…"

"I am at my lord's disposal." Her face was utterly unreadable.

"My honored wife – the lady – " He swallowed. "She is not – that is to say, one sometimes fears that there might be something, perhaps, that grieves her, that one is unaware of, that it might be in one's power to cure…" And he was babbling. Again. Hopefully there had been something reasonably coherent in that mess.

Tae raised a single, slender eyebrow.

"My lady has an exceedingly honest nature," she said, and her voice was somewhat clipped. "If she appears to be happy, then she is; and if she is concealing her unhappiness from you, it is because she does not wish you to know. Pressing the issue will only distress her further."

"One didn't mean – that is to say – " The packet of barley crinkled under his fingers. "One knows she has suffered tremendous loss, that the circumstances… that circumstances are not ideal, and that one's own self has been the cause of her grief, perhaps, in some ways, and one only… it is one's greatest wish that, if it is not possible to be her happiness, one might at least cease to be a source of her distress. That is to say."

There was a long pause, then. A bird called outside, trilling one last sleepy lullaby to the deepening night. The weight in the air seemed to lighten; he thought, in the low light from the dying kitchen fire, that Tae might almost be smiling.

"You may always trust that my lady's choices, at least, will be true ones, regardless of the circumstances," she said finally, in a voice that was almost kind. "In this case, my lord, it seems her choice has been quite clear – would you not agree?"

"I…" There was something stuck in his throat; he couldn't quite seem to swallow it down. "It would appear so, yes…"

"Then trust, my lord, in your perceptions." There was a definite smirk curving her lips. "It's worked so far."

She bowed again, and was gone before he could say another word.

~*~

Kenshin chose a spot halfway between their rooms to wait for his wife and settled down, staring out at the garden. The tea was plenty cool by the time Kaoru came padding along the porch, wrapped in her robe with her damp hair braided down her back, and Kenshin straightened when he heard her footsteps.

"Honored wife…"

"Kenshin." She sat down next to him, nudging the tray out of the way. Then she picked up both cups and handed him one. "Thank you again," she said, sipping. "For today, I mean."

"It was no trouble," he said, holding his cup and drinking her in: the reflection of moonlight in the droplets that still clung to her perfect skin, the soft ease in her face as she smiled at the taste of the tea.

"Did you add mint?"

He nodded.

"It's really good." She hummed in happiness, sipping again. Then she yawned hugely, barely covering her mouth in time. "I didn't realize how tired I was…"

"Then you should sleep," he said softly, and carefully reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It was a long day."

"And you?"

He had an answer: he was just half-scared to say it, and even that seemed like a frail excuse.

"With your permission…" he murmured, not quite daring to meet her eyes. "One… seems to sleep more soundly at your side."

"Oh." She ducked her head down, setting her cup lightly aside. He couldn't quite tell if she was blushing. "Well. Um. In that case… I guess…"

Kaoru seemed as hesitant as he was.

"In that case, I guess, you should come to bed. When you're ready, that is." She stood, heading towards her room. He caught her hand, pressing it to his cheek.

"Kaoru…"

Kenshin looked up at her, a supplicant at her altar; she gazed down at him, eyes wide and heated in the nighttime shadows. He stood, not quite pulling her close, but didn't let go of her hand.

"Thank you," he said. She blushed.

"For what?"

"Today. Yesterday. All of it." He hadn't touched a drop of sake today, so why was his traitor tongue running on without his permission? "Everything."

"Kenshin…" She started to take a step – forward or back, he couldn't tell – and grimaced. "Ow!"

"Your legs?"

"Yes," she muttered, rubbing at the offending muscle. "Even after all that! I'm so out of shape…"

"Perhaps – " He took her other hand in his. "There's some salve, in one's room, for sore muscles. Should one…?"

"Oh, _please_ ," she said, squeezing his fingers back in gratitude. "Let me go and lie down, all right?"

"As you wish," he said, and let go of her hands.

When he came to her room she had settled on the futon, lying facedown with her head resting in her folded arms. He paused at the threshold, uncertain.

"Would you mind rubbing it in?" she asked, peeking shyly up at him. "It's just that I can't really reach…"

"No." It was hard to speak, and harder to breathe; there was no light except for the flickering lamp, casting shadows in odd places. "Of course not, honored wife. Kaoru."

"Thank you."

He knelt at her side, hands shaking slightly as he opened the salve. There was an intimacy to this that seemed almost to surpass what they had already shared: a new closeness in this act of tending to her hurts, however mild.

She didn't need to tell him where it hurt most. He remembered all too clearly from his first days on horseback, and although she wasn't new to riding it had been, apparently, some time since she'd done any. So her thighs would hurt the most, and her hips…

He rubbed his hands together briskly to warm them and slid her robe up to her waist, trying to be businesslike about it. She was in pain: now was not the time to linger overmuch on her lean muscle or her soft, smooth skin. Even though he was tracing the lines of her body, probing gently for knots and sore places, so he couldn't help touching and feeling that same distractingly lovely skin…

She let out a ragged breath as he found a particularly stubborn knot, fighting to keep from tensing while he dug at it.

"Sorry," he said, soothing the pain as best he could.

"Don't worry, just keep going." She grunted, half-gasping. "It's helping."

And he could tell that it was. The tightness in her thighs was slowly easing, the muscles smoothing back into their proper place. So he carried on, rubbing in the salve and working at every knot he found, until he was only stroking her skin for the sheer pleasure of it. She fairly purred underneath him, making sounds of deepest contentment in the back of her throat, and his body responded with disconcerting alacrity to her pleasure.

"If you could turn, now," he said, voice a little hoarser than he'd intended.

She rolled over, not bothering to keep her head on the pillow, and he bent to his task. It was a little easier, here, and all too quickly he found that he was touching her simply to touch her, running his hands up nearly to her waist and back down along her hips. Her eyes had fluttered shut some time ago, and her face was flushed as the most _unfair_ sounds fell from her perfect lips.

"Kaoru…"

He was aching for her, need spiking straight through his bones and making it so very hard to think. She would be sore enough in the morning even with all his help, he shouldn't make it worse, but –

But –

And then his fingers slipped on skin made slick by the salve and brushed against her; he felt her slick and hot and ready and what little resistance he had crumbled like a sandcastle in the tide.

It wasn't as if he didn't know other ways to please her.

She gasped as he ducked down, sliding his arms around her waist to kiss the tender hollow of hips.

"Oh! Kenshin – " She propped herself up on her elbows, staring.

"May I?" he asked, spreading his hand across her belly and watching her eyes. Waiting. His blood pounded in his veins, racing hot and wild. His cock brushed against the futon, though his robe, and even that was enough to make him grit his teeth.

"Well – I mean – it's not that I don't, but – I really _am_ sore…" Her voice was torn, uncertain, and her eyes were hot with wanting.

"That isn't what I mean." He kissed the inside of her thigh. "Please…"

"What… what _do_ you mean, then?" Her eyes were wide and glittering in the candlelight. Heat rushed to his face, surged in his veins and he pulled her a little closer, a little tighter.

"It's difficult to say, precisely… may I show you?"

She hesitated.

"…all right…"

Kenshin bowed his head, smiling, and pressed his mouth to her. She cried out – startled at first, and then in pleasure as he licked and sucked and kissed, tasting her. Salt and heady desire on his tongue, the scent of it filling his lungs and the wet heat enveloping him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and he followed her unspoken demands, going where she led him. He was dizzy with her, and he pressed closer and deeper and harder as her legs wrapped around his shoulders, refusing to let him go.

It was too much – her scent, her voice, her skin and her taste – he slid one hand down and took hold of himself, stroking in time with her gasps and his tongue inside her. It didn't take much – just her hands tightening as she came up to the edge, enough that it almost hurt – before white-hot pleasure ripped through him, so potent that it was almost pain. She wasn't quite there yet: he kept going, kissing and suckling until she shouted, bucking her hips against his mouth as she came.

He brought her down gently, soothing, delighting in the little jumps and shivers as she calmed. She sighed, once, and stroked his hair.

"Come up here." There was nothing but sleepy contentment in her voice. Wiping his mouth quickly on his sleeve, he moved up and lay beside her. She twined her fingers with his, smiling.

"That was lovely."

"That's well," he whispered. "Is there anything else…"

"That you require?" She laughed as she finished the sentence for him: a small, gentle sound. "No. Well, maybe you could pull the blanket up."

"As you wish." He kissed her knuckles and did just that.

"How about you?" She yawned as she asked, settling under the blanket. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine." Another kiss, pressed against their twined fingers. "Everything's fine."

"Good." Kaoru's eyes started to slide shut. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close, and she slid against him without protest. "Good night, Kenshin."

"Sleep well."

He closed his eyes, and did not dream.

~*~

Someone was shuffling outside the room, scuffing and fumbling at the door. Kenshin cracked his eyes open, one hand easing towards his sword where it lay on the floor at the head of the futon. Kaoru stirred and opened her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she yawned, voice barely audible.

"Stay here," he murmured, hoping the intruder wouldn't hear. "It seems there's someone at the door…"

"What?"

The moonlight gleamed pale through the closed shutters, illuminating the room in long bands of bone-pale shadow. A maid or retainer would have announced themselves: only someone who meant ill would come scratching at a lady's door in the middle of the night. Kenshin curled his hand carefully around the hilt of his sword, angling himself to lunge between the intruder and his wife. Blood surged in his veins, forcing him to full wakefulness.

The door slid open.

"Big sister?"

Ayame's small, pale face appeared in the crack. Kenshin let go of his sword, relaxing, and felt a little foolish – but not completely. His heart still beat a little too hard.

"Oh. Um. Lord brother-in-law…" She blinked, seeming to withdraw.

"It's all right, Ayame," Kaoru said, sitting up and pulling her robe closed. "What is it?"

"Um…" She slid the door open a bit more, revealing Suzume clinging to her side. "Suzume had a bad dream."

"Did she now?" Kaoru stifled a yawn, voice rough with sleep. "All right, then, I'll be there in a moment…" She glanced at Kenshin, a question in her eyes.

"It's fine," he assured her, though some vestigial childishness protested the loss of her, even for a night. "If they need you, you should go, that you should."

"Well – if you're sure – " She combed restlessly through the tip of her braid, as if that wasn't quite the answer she'd wanted to hear. His heart jumped into his throat.

"Or…" he started to say, and stopped. His fingers clinched in the blanket. "Or, perhaps – they might... come in? One remembers, when one was very small, one's own parents – "

He cut himself off, mortified at his own presumption, and looked away. She touched him gently, two fingers resting in the crook of his elbow, and he had to turn back. The moonlight glimmered in her hair, streaking it with molten silver.

"Don't worry so much," she said softly, and turned to the girls. "Come in," she said, patting the futon beside her. "It's all right."

Ayame stepped over the threshold. Responding to some unknown signal, Suzume let go of her and toddled over to Kaoru, collapsing into her lap with a muffled sob. Kaoru wrapped her arms around the little girl, murmuring soothing nonsense as she stroked her hair. Ayame took a few hesitant steps towards the futon, eyeing Kenshin uncertainly.

He lay back down, his back towards the girls and Kaoru. There was a pull on the blankets as Ayame climbed in between him and Kaoru; a small foot kicked into his lower back and he suppressed a wince.

"Sorry," he heard Ayame whisper.

"It's all right," he whispered back. More rustling and tugging, and finally she seemed to settle. Kenshin stuck his head up, half-turning to check on his wife and her little sisters. Kaoru had one arm wrapped around Suzume, who was lying on top of her with her eyes squeezed shut. Ayame cuddled up against Kaoru's side, her small hand holding tight to Kaoru's robe. Kaoru shot him a weary, slightly amused look, and gestured with her free hand.

"Come here, you," she said. The corner of her mouth tugged up in a grin and she wiggled a little closer, as close as she could get without squishing Ayame.

Carefully, afraid of disturbing the girls, he settled himself with one arm draped across Ayame and the other tucked awkwardly up near his head. It wasn't entirely comfortable – and then Ayame shifted, snuggling into his side as she had that day in the field, when they'd all picked plums together. He shifted onto his back, cradling her against him, and let his other arm fall across his waist.

"Sorry for all this," Kaoru said quietly.

"They need you." He blushed slightly. "One hardly minds."

She was silent for a moment: when she spoke again her voice was thick with some unnamable emotion.

"You're very good to us, you know."

Kenshin blinked up at the ceiling, momentarily confused.

"Well," he said, not certain if it was the right thing but able to risk honesty, here in night's soft cradle. "It's an easy thing to be, that it is."

She touched her fingers to her lips, then gently to his, carrying the kiss across the space between. He kissed her fingertips; and then, together, they slept.

~*~

Sano took one look at Kenshin's face and broke into a grin.

"So _that's_ where y'disappeared to all week, huh?" He stepped out of the Lotus Blossom, elbowing Kenshin companionably in the ribs. "Nice work!"

"One hardly has any idea what you're talking about." It was a struggle to keep a straight face; he knew exactly what Sano was talking about, although it was a bit surprising that Sano had figured it out so quickly. Then again, perhaps it wasn't. He could be remarkably perceptive, in some areas, and he knew Kenshin better than anyone ever had.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, is that it?" Sano cracked his knuckles, snickering. "Well, good job y'managed t'tear yourself away from the missus. I got some news for ya."

"So your message said." Kenshin fell in beside him as they walked away from the Blossom, Sano's easy amble a stark contrast to his more disciplined gait. The bright morning sun beat down on them, glimmering off the canal. "Concerning the Black Hat incident?"

"Uh-huh. Looks like he _was_ workin' for someone."

"Truly?"

Sano nodded. "Can't quite track down _who_ , though – guy works through a lot of layers. The missus said anything about it? You an' her being so close now. Maybe she saw somethin', overheard it, like?" Sano eyed him mischievously, waiting for the reaction. Kenshin elected not to rise to the bait.

"The lady has not discussed what occurred before one's arrival that night in any detail," he said simply. "One saw no need to press the matter, that I did not."

"Huh." Sano leaned back in his stance, contemplation flitting over his face. "Y'might wanna straight-up ask. Can't tell right now if what that bastard pulled with your wife was all him or done under orders – could be important to know which." He grinned out from under his mop of hair. "Assumin' it won't disturb the domestic harmony."

"One doubts that," Kenshin murmured. Sano elbowed him again, cackling.

" _Man_ , I am _glad_ for you." He slung an arm around Kenshin's shoulders. Kenshin ducked his head, trying to hide his smile. "No, seriously. Y'deserve a little happiness, y'know?"

"Well – one is glad that the lady is content, at least…"

"Oh, t'hell with that modesty crap. You're happy for _you_ , too, aint'cha?" There was an undercurrent of real concern in Sano's voice. "I mean shit, Kenshin, that's _allowed_. You're a good guy. She's a lucky woman."

"I'm a lucky man." Kenshin couldn't hide the smile any longer. "That I truly am."

"So the both a'ya are a couple'a lucky stiffs." He squeezed Kenshin once, then let him go. "Quit actin' like the sky's gonna fall, jeez."

"Ah." Kenshin sighed, uneasy despite himself. "It's only that – it seems too much, when one has time to think…"

"Then _don't_ think." Sano halted in the middle of the street, crossing his arms and glaring down at Kenshin. "Goddamn, is it really too much t'think that after alla the fuckin' crap you've been through y'might've really stumbled on t'somethin' _good?_ What – you scared to be happy for a change?"

Kenshin shrugged. "Perhaps." Then he stumbled forward as Sano wacked him on the back of the head, just hard enough to sting.

"Well, _quit it_."

"It's hardly that simple – " Kenshin began to protest, and swallowed it at the look that Sano gave him.

"Yeah, it is." He ran a hand through his tangled mane, exhaling like an irritated horse. "It really _is_ , Kenshin, if y'just let yourself see it. Look – you're a good guy. Y'got wealth, status, so y'can take care of her, y' _love_ her, and you're sure as hell never gonna take her for granted. Which counts for a lot with women, let me tell you – "

"As if you would know," Kenshin retorted, mildly stung. It wasn't that he didn't see Sano's point, or that he hadn't understood Tae's message clearly. Kaoru had accepted him, had trusted him to see to her hurts, to comfort her sisters, to hold her in his arms… it was unconscionably greedy to ask for more.

And yet he did. He wanted to – to _know_ , with certainty, that she returned even the faintest echo of his own feelings. That she missed him when he was gone, even a little bit, the way he missed her – like he had misplaced his sword-arm, or some other vital part.

"Hey, just 'cause I don't want anything permanent right now doesn't mean I couldn't have it if I tried." Sano smirked. "Just waitin' for a lordship t'fall into my lap, is all. Seems they're givin' 'em away as party favors."

"Very funny," Kenshin muttered, sourly. Sano slugged him lightly in the shoulder, barely more than a love-tap.

"Cheer up, dammit. Seriously. The hell have you got to be depressed for?" He studied Kenshin for a moment, brow furrowed. "I mean, she's not doin', you know, the _thing_ , like messin' with your head or somethin' right? She didn't strike me as the type, but I guess you never know…"

"No…" Kenshin shook his head. "When one is with her – it seems very simple. Only when one is alone does one begin to wonder…"

"So don't be alone." Sano shoved his hands in his pockets. "Occurs t'me that I ain't paid proper respect to the missus yet, other'n showin' up t'warn her about the Black Hat. I gotta steal y'this afternoon to go see a guy, but there's no reason we can't drop in on the lady before we go."

"Truly?" For a moment, the pleasure of spending more time with Kaoru overwhelmed his common sense. Then he narrowed his eyes. "In that case, why did you ask one to come so early?"

Sano chuckled.

"Thought maybe y'might want the break," he said, shrugging. "Some time away from the missus an' all, given how things were between ya. How was I t'know that things had changed?" He bent down, faced wreathed in a shit-eating grin. "Ain't like ya been real communicative this week and all…"

This time Kenshin did blush, letting out a strangled cough.

"Yes, well, very true. At any rate, in that case, we should be heading to the palace, that we should…"

"Sure thing. Hey, let's stop by the sweet store, first. There's those two little girls, right? Kids like that sort of thing."

~*~

Kenshin and Sano made their way back to the manor only to discover that Kaoru and the girls were not at home. Lady Takani had come for a visit with her son in the hour or so that Kenshin had been away, and the lot of them had gone down to one of the unused training fields.

It was a smaller field, with rough terrain; Kenshin could see why it wasn't used often. Normal exercises were held on broad, flat land, and this was better suited to a war game – hazards and interesting environments abounded. There was even a small watchtower set up, scarred and notched by blades and arrows, which was probably used as a mock-castle.

Kaoru poked her head over the battlements as they approached.

"Halt!" she cried, eye sparkling, "In the name of Her August Majesty Lady Ayame, who rules this land!"

"Oro?" Kenshin stared up at her. Sano snickered. Kaoru gave a broad wink.

"The honorable lady requires that all travelers through her realm make themselves known to her before adventuring within this realm." She folded her arms on the top of the wall, grinning down at them. "Might this unworthy person know your names, bold sirs?"

"Ah – " Kenshin bowed, catching on. "This humble person has the honor of being Sir Kenshin Himura of Edo Castle, and of introducing my companion and retainer – "

"Oi!"

" – Sir Sanosuke of the Hiei mountains." He couldn't stop a sly smile from tugging on his lips as Sano glared at him, irritated at being labeled a retainer. It was rare that he felt inclined to return fire over Sano's jibes, but he had been getting a little complacent lately and the sting would be good for him.

"And what business do you have here, good sir?" Kaoru asked.

"Only to pay homage to a lady whose beauty, wisdom, and goodness are legend throughout Japan." He held up the box of pastries. "We brought sweets, that we did."

"Let him up, let him up!" Ayame shrieked excitedly, unseen behind the ramparts. Kaoru hid a giggle.

"My lady finds your natures and intentions pleasing, it seems." Her shoulders shook as she tried desperately to keep a straight face, humor dancing in her eyes. "Please, good sirs, be welcome here."

Her eyes were so bright, full of life and laughter, beckoning him onward as she smiled, inviting. He beamed up at her, entranced, and almost didn't dodge the ladder in time.

"You are _done_ for, my friend," Sano muttered in passing, shaking his head with a tolerant smirk.

"Perhaps." The smile refused to fade as he began to climb. "But it could be worse, that it could."

Kaoru and Lady Takani sat on one side of the tower, watching the children. Ayame had perched herself on top of a stack of mats, a flower crown sitting lopsided on her hair, and was watching with interest as Katsuo showed her something on a map drawn on a bit of paper, in a ragged, childish scrawl. Suzume clung to her sister's side, copying her every movement.

"Honored wife," Kenshin said in greeting, his eyes lingering warmly. "And Lady Takani." He nodded. "It's good to see you."

He couldn't help feeling a little guarded. The feelings that Lady Takani had had for him were old business, as settled and done as such a thing could ever be – yet he feared it might pain her to see another in the place that she had wanted, not so very long ago. Not that her feelings had ever been about _him_ , really. More the _idea_ of him: what she had felt, she'd felt because she had been desperate and afraid and he had helped her. Nothing more.

And because, perhaps, it had been _safe_ to have those feelings for him, knowing as she did that they would not be returned.

"It's a pleasure to be here," Lady Takani returned, with a slight bow. "I'm glad that Katsuo is making friends." Her eyes were gentle, and insinuated nothing.

"One is pleased to see that the children are getting along," he remarked, moving away from the ladder to let Sano up. He knelt at Kaoru's side, setting down the package of sweets. "What are they playing at?"

"Lady Ayame's peaceful reign is threatened by terrible, rampaging ogres in the north," Kaoru said, poker-faced. "So she called on her most loyal warrior, the mighty Katsuo, to defend the land and end the threat."

"I see." Kenshin shook his head, smiling.

"Who's playing the ogre?" Sano asked.

The assembled adults looked at him, wordlessly.

"Aw, come on," he protested. "I'm _always_ the ogre."

"Only because you're so _very_ good at it," Lady Takani said, too-sweetly. Kenshin coughed, looking up and away as Kaoru glanced quizzically at him

"Here we go…" he murmured.

"Then I guess you should play the fox-spirit, huh?" Sano crossed his arms, leaning back against the parapet.

"Oh my!" Lady Takani covered her mouth in a ladylike expression of shock. Kenshin could almost see the ears popping up from her elaborate coif. "Such a thing to say! Why, Sir Sanosuke, are you terribly familiar with many fox-spirits?"

"Just the one." He raised an eyebrow at her. She smirked, popping open her fan and hiding her mouth behind it.

"What a lucky fox – although, I pity her, only ever seeing you drunk and passed out in a gutter." Her voice was cutting. Sano gave an exaggerated yawn.

"You sure do seem t'know a lot about my private life, Lady Fox; if you're that curious, I'll be happy t'just tell ya."

Lady Takani trilled out a laugh, sounding thoroughly noble. "Whyever would I concern myself with the habits of a drunken, filthy, ignorant ogre?"

"Better list some of my bad traits, there," Sano fired back. "Wouldn't want me gettin' a swelled head, now, would ya?"

The bickering continued. Kaoru smothered a giggle.

"Do they do this often?" she whispered, leaning in. Kenshin leaned back, shielding his mouth with his hand.

"Constantly," he said in a mournful tone. "One can hardly take them anywhere…"

"Uncle _Ken!_ " Ayame slithered off her makeshift throne and then stopped short, grasping her hands behind her back. "Um… is it okay if I say that now? I mean, Katsuo does…"

"What?" Then his brain caught up with his ears and his heart – which he had thought was full to bursting – found room for a little more joy. "Ah – yes, of course. That's fine."

"Good." She sat down, sticking her nose in the air. "It's time for sweets, now."

"Ayame." Kaoru said warningly. "Don't spoil your appetite."

"Just _one?_ " she pleaded. "Please?"

"…one," Kaoru said, shooting a glance Kenshin's way: _you see what I have to put up with?_ "Just one. So pick carefully. And invite the others, too."

"Oh, right." She turned around. "Suzume, Katsuo, it's time for sweets! We can fight the ogre after."

"But who's going to be the ogre?" Katsuo asked, brow furrowed. "Uncle Sano doesn't want to…"

"Nah, I'll do it," Sano said, ruffling Katsuo's hair. The boy looked up at him, dubious. "I don't mind bein' the ogre. I was just givin' your mom a hard time."

Katsuo scowled, uncertain whether or not he should be taking offense. Sano smirked, crossed his legs at the ankle, and sat down. Then he reached for a sweet.

"Hey, no fair!" Ayame smacked his hand away. "Kids first!"

"Hey, Kenshin, how come every woman you know is so damn bossy…?"

The bright morning passed uninterrupted, with sweets, playful arguing, and a climactic battle of heroes against the merciless ogre terrifying the land. Sano played his role with relish, letting out a roar that fair shook the trees, and Kenshin was happy to offer encouragement and strategy from the sidelines. It was _good_ : if Kenshin had been a different man, he might have put more poetry to it but he was who he was, and all he could think to call it was good. Good as clear, cold water after a hot day's labor.

He had to leave around midafternoon, at Sano's insistence. Kaoru urged him to go.

"It's the Black Hat business, isn't it?" Her eyes were too understanding. "You keep mentioning it… it's not over yet, right? You still need to find out who hired him in the first place, don't you?"

"Well, there is the possibility…" He studied her face for a moment, not certain when he'd told her of Sano's discovery that Black Hat had been hired. "How did you know someone hired him? One only found out this morning, that I did."

"Oh, well." Her eyes skidded momentarily away from his. "It made sense? I mean, someone had to have gotten him the uniforms and the passes. He couldn't have been working alone."

"That's true." Kenshin touched her wrist, lightly. "Did he mention anything to you? Perhaps something about his ally?"

"No." She shook her head, a little too quickly. "Nothing. He never spoke."

A lie. Why would she lie? He started to ask and Sano shouted, impatiently, for him to hurry up. Kenshin snapped his jaw shut, his common sense asserting itself. If she was lying, then she must believe it was for good reason – and for all the joy the past week had brought, there were still fissures and faults between them, still too many shadows left unaddressed. Convincing her that she did not need to lie to protect herself would take time.

But they had time, now.

"All right." He squeezed her hand. "One does not expect to be back until quite late this evening, that I do not."

"I'll keep a lantern burning for you," she said, and returned his small caress.

~*~

They came home earlier than he'd expected, although still quite late; the man that Sano had wanted him to see had led them on a merry chase throughout the city, following contacts and contacts of contacts until Sano had thrown up his hands, disgusted, and growled out an apology.

"'Parently I gotta remind the locals just who the fuck I am. Asshole."

"We could try longer…" Although Kenshin was hardly looking forward to the prospect, weighed against going home to Kaoru's arms.

"Nah. Let's get you back. Don't wanna keep you out late for no damn reason."

So they'd turned and headed back to the castle. To his _home_ – in every sense – where his wife had left a lantern burning to light his way. Kenshin wished, not for the first time, that he was more learned, more eloquent, that he had the words – that he could write her poetry, or _something_. Because as it stood he had no words for the brightness that came rushing to fill every empty place he'd never known he had when he thought of that simple thing: _my wife has left a lantern burning for me_. She was waiting for him to come home.

Maybe there were no words. Or maybe that was what drove poets in the first place: the impossible quest to describe that which defied description.

The lantern was burning in the entryway, though the house was quiet. And in her room, too, though no shadows moved behind the paper screens.

"Night, Kenshin." Sano waved in a desultory fashion. "I'll be in touch tomorrow afternoon, after I break a few heads."

"Ah. Yes." It took Kenshin a minute to muster up something coherent, with every nerve in his body straining towards Kaoru. "One is grateful, as always, for your help, and your friendship – "

"Kenshin." The look that Sano gave him was so old it creaked. "Go see your wife."

"Yes. Thank you. Goodnight!" With a bow just this side of courteous, Kenshin kicked off his sandals and hurried towards Kaoru's room.

"Honored wife?" He tapped at the door. She didn't respond. "Kaoru?"

Still no answer. Maybe she'd fallen asleep?

Kenshin slid the door open.

He saw it, at first, as isolated fragments: the drape of cloth, the tangled limbs, the black hair strewn across the tatami. And the blood – so _much_ blood that he couldn't understand, for moment, how he hadn't smelled it – blood seeping across her long white gown, staining the floors.

So much blood.

The blood brought it into focus: Kaoru, dressed in white and white as a corpse, because she _was_ a corpse, the bloody dagger that she'd used to carve a second, bloody smile in her white throat still clutched in her white, white hand.

For a long moment – as the world cracked and spun around him – he did not even have the words to scream.

And then he did.


	12. 'till some blind hand should brush my wing

The scream spilt the night like a thunderclap, a piercing howl ripped from the belly of some damned soul. Sano had turned and started running back towards the godforsaken manor they'd shut Kenshin up in before he fully understood what he'd heard. Armed men were swarming around the gate, all military bewilderment – _we don't know what's going on so let's act very official and maybe someone will come along to tell us_ – and Sano didn't wait for them to finish trying to halt him. He vaulted over the crowd, to the top of the wall, and dropped down the other side.

Servants were milling aimlessly, pale-faced and grim and only slightly more panicked than the soldiers. He grabbed one by the arm – a maid, her wide eyes red-rimmed with weeping. There was a reek of rancid copper in the air.

"What the hell is going on?" he snapped. She gasped, startled.

"Sir Sano?"

"What happened?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "The Lady – Lady Kaoru – "

And that was enough. Sano dropped her arm and pelted indoors, scattering maids and manservants left and right as he followed the scent. The crowd thickened as the reek did – what the fuck did one person need so many damn servants for, anyway? – and then the it vanished, suddenly, as he stumbled out into a clearing before one of the identical bedroom doors. As if everyone was afraid to get too close.

Of course they were. Idiots.

Sano could see Kenshin kneeling, clutching something to him with a child's desperation. He had screamed only once: now, he wasn't even sobbing. There was a stain on the tatami, black in the flickering candlelight, and the smell of blood was almost overwhelming.

Fear tightened Sano's gut, sending ice out through his veins. He stepped into the room.

"… _fuck_."

Three bodies. Two of them were strangers. One was older woman, past middle-age, dressed as a maid. She had been stabbed neatly through the chest and left to lie in a pool of blood, her legs tangled in their death-throes. The second was a samurai, or dressed like one at any rate, wearing the Himura crest. He'd cut his own stomach open, or started to; a swift stroke of a sword at his neck had done the rest. Sano stared at the head lying abandoned beside its former body, fighting back bile, and thought he recognized the face. The fellow from the Black Hat incident, the one in charge of the lady's guards… and the older woman, he thought, might be that maid, the one who'd come with the lady to Edo. The one who was so loyal. Loyal enough to follow her mistress into death.

And then, convinced of what he would see but needing to look anyway, needing to be _sure_ , he took one further step into the room for a better look at the third body, the one that Kenshin held like it was his last link to sanity.

He knew that one. The lady – Kenshin's Lady Kaoru, her throat slit open, a bloody dagger still clutched in her hand, pretty white dress stained red with her own lifes-blood. She'd tied her legs together to maintain her modesty even as she writhed in death. Just like a proper lady.

"Big sister?"

A child's voice behind him, high-pitched and shot through with fear. He turned to see the little girls – her sisters – standing in the doorway, and moved just a beat too slow to stop them from seeing –

The older one – Ayame – screamed, piercing and frantic, and the younger one clinging to her side began to wail. Kenshin didn't even stir. Sano swore roundly and picked them both up, one in each arm. Ayame beat at him, her tiny fists barely more than a light breeze on his tough hide; the younger one went for his hair, pulling on it and shrieking in response to her sister's agitation. He stepped outside the room, glancing about at the servants still hovering, terrified, and let his contempt show in his eyes.

"You fucks couldn't have tried to stop 'em?" he growled, searching for someone who looked reasonably competent. He'd look after the kids himself, if it came to it, but he didn't want to leave Kenshin alone, not with –

He couldn't think about it, couldn't face it full-on. It didn't make any sense. Why would she – ?

Maybe she could have fooled Sano, but she never could have fooled Kenshin. And Kenshin had thought everything was all right. So what the hell had happened to change things in the few hours they were gone?

A young maid stepped out of the crowd, the one he'd stopped before. She was shaking, tears still trickling their way down her cheeks. But she held out her arms, and her eyes were quietly, tremblingly determined.

"I'll take them, Sir Sano."

He eyed her, uncertain.

"You sure?"

She nodded. "I was – Miss Tae put me in charge of them, when she and the Lady Kaoru couldn't look after them." A sniff. For a moment she looked ready to break down again. Then she squared her shoulders. "They know me."

The girls had quieted when she stepped forward, their frantic struggles fading into limp sobs.

Goddamn, but he hated being in charge.

"All right," he said quickly, offloading the kids into her arms and crouching to face the maid eye-to-eye, his voice low. "Listen, uh – "

"Tsubame, sir."

"Tsubame. Listen, I dunno what happened here, or if it's what it looks like – I don't wanna believe it is, but – look, is there anyone here, someone who can fight, that y'really, _really_ trust?"

"I…" She trembled a little, holding the girls close. "I'm not sure, anymore."

Sano closed his eyes, briefly. "Fair enough. Okay. Fuck." He paused, wracking his brain.

"I could take them to Lord Himura's rooms, sir."

Sano blinked.

"They'd be safe there," she said, with a peculiar emphasis on _safe_. It took Sano's battered brain a few seconds to understand what she was saying.

_Right._

The lord's rooms – there'd be a bolthole, a saferoom hidden in plain sight. Most manors had them, samurai being the paranoid fucks they were. And rightly so.

"Okay." He ran a hand through his hair. "That'll do. Nobody but me, you got it?"

"I understand." She nodded, and, guiding the sobbing children, disappeared into the knotted crowd.

"As for the rest a'you," Sano snapped, straightening. "What d'you think this is, the fuckin' theatre? Ain't there some shit you should be doing or sometin'? _Shit_." He shot them all a last, contemptuous glare and then turned his back, not really interested.

Kenshin was still hunched over, curled around the body like it was an open wound. His eyes were hidden behind his bangs, and his fingers were white and bloodless with the effort of holding on. Sano laid a hand on his shoulder, carefully. Kenshin didn't respond.

"Kenshin."

Nothing. Not even a twitch, or a slight raise of the head. Sano crouched down, trying to smother his fear.

"Kenshin, listen. You gotta get up, Kenshin. C'mon." He shook him lightly, trying to get _something_ , but Kenshin might have been a doll for all the good it did. "This can't be – "

Sano swallowed, there, because what else _could_ it be? But it had to be something else – but – she was _holding the damn dagger_ , her fingers curled around it in a deathgrip. Frozen by the early stages of decay. She was _dead_ , and by her own hand.

"Fuck, Kenshin," Sano whispered, his throat closing with the effort of holding back the heat stinging behind his eyes. "Don't do this to me, buddy, don't check out on me…"

His fingers curled in the cloth of Kenshin's kimono, pressing against his shoulder.

"You're my best friend. An' they need you – those girls, the fox-woman, that brat Katsuo – "

He had to be bruising Kenshin now, but the older man still didn't stir.

"… _I_ need you."

He'd been half-lost in booze and rage when he'd met Kenshin, had wallowed in his grief for years as he fought anyone who came his way without much care if he lived or died. Until he'd gotten paid to go after a Tokugawa retainer – he woulda' done it for free, they were all the same, all those fucking lords and samurai, same rotten stock as had burned the temple to the ground, and his village with it. And for what? For politics. Because the temple had kept to its own, declaring no allegiance save to its good works. What was worth saving about a world where a man could die for doing the right thing?

He'd gone after the retainer and Kenshin had stopped him: spared him, when he could have killed him – _should_ have – and that had been enough to pierce the haze around him. Something had gotten untangled that day, somewhere between the punch to his jaw that had laid him out flat and the quiet conversation while his head throbbed fit to break his skull, something deep under his heart that had knotted so tight and hard it was dragging him down into hell, and him all unknowing.

And it wasn't fucking _fair_ –

Sano's fist slammed against the mat, because he was a hard man and hard men didn't weep. That got a reaction, finally – Kenshin's head lifting, just enough for Sano to see his dulled eyes.

He said something, so low that Sano couldn't hear: he only knew that Kenshin had spoken by the slight movement of his lips.

"What?"

"…it's enough." Kenshin's head fell forward again, covering his eyes, and he held to the body a little bit tighter. "Enough. No more."

"The hell are you _talking_ about?" Sano knew, deep in his bones. He just didn't want to know it. "Kenshin!"

But that was all he got, no matter what he did. After a few more futile moments Sano stood up, mouth thin and hard, fists clenching so tight at his side that he was surprised his nails didn't draw blood.

He sucked in a long breath, _wanting_ to say – something –

Then he exhaled, hard, and stalked out of the room.

"You!" he snapped, pointing to the remaining servants. "Watch him! Do not fucking let him do anything stupid, d'ya hear me?"

They stared, dumb and mute.

"D'ya _hear_ me?" he snarled. That got a series of nervous nods.

"Right. I'm gonna make sure the kids are safe. I come back and he ain't where I left him, I'm gonna be real fucking _pissed_ , y'hear?"

Without waiting for a response, he went off down the hall.

~*~

Sano heard the faint scrape of a door opening only a few heartbeats after he stepped into Kenshin's bedroom. Tsubame stepped out, holding Suzume in her arms while Ayame clung to her side. Both girls were weeping, silently.

Sano swallowed hard, uncertain. Ayame sniffed, rubbing her nose on her sleeve.

"Big sister's dead, isn't she?" she asked, voice trembling. Sano looked away.

"…yeah. Looks like it."

Suzume let out a tiny wail, burying her face in Tsubame's neck. The young maid nearly glared at Sano and he grimaced. Maybe there had been a better way to say that, but…

"What's going to happen to us?" Ayame was staring at him, small and pale in the moonlight. Tsubame hadn't lit the room's lantern. Smart move. Made it look unoccupied, in case anyone came to check. "Will Uncle Ken send us back to Aunt Kyoko?"

He couldn't stand the way she was looking at him, fear and uncertainty smothering her lively features. So he took two long strides over and dropped to one knee in front of her, brows drawing down as he tried to think of something to say.

"Look…" he started, deciding to opt for honesty. "I dunno what happened. I mean, I know what _happened_ , but I don't know why. I'm gonna find out. An' Kenshin's… not gonna be able to make any decisions for a while, okay?" He paused and tilted his head for a second. "Not smart ones, anyway. But I know he'd want me t'look after you. So that's what I'm gonna do, and then I'm gonna figure out why your sister's dead. An' when I find out who did this t'her, I'm gonna make 'em _pay_."

The last sentence had come out unbidden, riding a tide of rage – for his best friend, for these little girls, for the fading echo of the boy he'd once been, who'd never had the chance to see justice done. And he realized as he said it that he did not believe for one hot second that the Lady Kaoru had killed herself. It wasn't impossible to make a murder look like a suicide. Maybe he hadn't known her that well, but he hadn't survived as long as he had without getting the knack of sizing people up on a first meeting. She wasn't the _type_.

Ayame's chest heaved, once, in a deep breath or a choked sob. He couldn't tell. Then she raised her jaw, straightening her shoulders. Tears glimmered for a moment in the corners of her eyes, before she dashed them away.

"Thank you, Sir Sano," she said, as the trained dignity of a samurai daughter overtook her features, locking out the child and leaving a half-grown woman behind. She looked, suddenly, very like her older sister. Then she bowed. "Please take care of us in the coming days."

"No worries, kid." He couldn't quite smile – and it would have been wrong, anyway – but he reached out and ruffled her hair, grief tightening his heart. "Hey, Miss Tsubame, does this bolthole come with a tunnel?"

Tsubame blinked. "Oh – yes! It comes out near the stables…"

"Good." Sano stood up. "Let's get you kids outta here."

"Where will we go?" Ayame's fingers were tangled in the sides of her dressing gown, the only hint of tension in her stance.

"Lady Takani's." It was all he could think of – he didn't know who else to trust. "I don't want you stayin' here, not when we don't know what happened. An' I don't want anyone knowing where your goin', either. If the tunnel comes out near the stables we can grab some horses and go – she's pretty far from the palace." He glanced down at Ayame. "'Fraid there's no time to pack, li'l missy."

"It's all right." Her voice was too smooth and cultured to be anything other than a mask. "As long as you keep your promise, Sir Sano."

He nodded, firmly, and hoped he wasn't lying.

~*~

In the interests of getting to Megumi's house sometime before dawn, Sano stole Kenshin's horse. Well, borrowed Kenshin's horse. With the intent to return. He loaded the girls on it and jogged along beside, leading by the reins. The beast co-operated, for a wonder: it had been awake and pacing when Sano had snuck into the stables, and looked at him with too-knowing eyes as he led it from its stall.

It was past the hour of the rat when they finally arrived, the waning moon peering down on them with disinterest. He'd taken a longer route than was strictly necessary, looping and doubling back even though he couldn't sense anyone following them, because Kenshin _was_ going to survive this (and why did he have to think that, why wasn't he _sure?_ ) and if the little ones or Megumi got hurt, Kenshin would never forgive himself for it.

He had to knock a few times before Megumi's elderly maid heard and opened the door, gasping when she lifted the lantern and took things in. She was old and half-deaf but no less sharp for it – within moments, Megumi was awake and hurrying to the door, lips tight as she tied a house-robe around her waist.

"What happened?"

"Lady Kaoru's dead."

Her eyes widened, pools of ink in the faint moonlight.

"What?"

"You heard me. I had to get the kids outta there. This was the only place I could think of."

Megumi's hand crept up to clutch at her collar.

"Sir Ken…?"

Sano shook his head. Megumi's eyes narrowed. Then she turned to her maid.

"Hana, take Miss – Tsubame, was it? – and the young ladies to the guest bedroom. See that they're cared for. You _are_ welcome here." This she addressed to the girls, her face softening. "I only wish your first visit had been under better circumstances."

Suzume had fallen asleep in Tsubame's arms, but she managed a bow and a murmured thanks. Ayame bowed as well.

"You're very kind, Lady Takani. Please forgive the imposition." There was only a barest hint of a tremble.

"Nonsense." Megumi laid a gentle hand on the girl's head. "Give me a moment to speak with Sir Sano. I'll be along shortly."

Hana ushered them off, clucking like a mother hen. The girls walked slow and shocky, exhaustion in every line of their bones. Megumi watched them go, for a moment, before she turned to Sano.

"Dead?"

"Yeah." He wrapped the horse's reins around his fingers to stop them trembling. It'd been easy to hold back his rage with the need to see the girls taken care of, but now it was seeping back, like water into a badly-tarred ship. "I think she was murdered."

"Think?" Megumi asked sharply. Her eyes glimmered cold in the half-lit courtyard.

Sano looked away, mouth twisting into a frown. "It _looks_ like she killed herself."

Megumi reared back, fury sparking in her eyes, her tight stance, the tips of her hair – and then she _focused_ , somehow, all that energy tightening down into one inexorable point.

"You're right," she said, with absolute certainty. "She wouldn't kill herself. What does Sir Ken believe?"

"What d'you think?" Sano stretched out his hands, helplessness bearing down on him like a mountain. "You know what he's like."

Her lips pressed together, bloodless, and fear bloomed behind her focused rage.

"You have to go back," she said urgently. "Right away! Before he – "

"I _know_." He cut her off, not as harshly as he wanted to; she loved Kenshin, after all, and it wasn't her fault that Sano didn't know what to do. "But I had to get the kids safe first, yeah? If there's someone lurkin' around tryin' t'fuck with Kenshin's head…"

He let it trail off, not wanting to say the rest. Because there was only one reason someone would kill Kenshin's wife like that, and if the killer was trying to make Kenshin _hurt_ – well. For someone after revenge, there was no such thing as overkill.

She blinked, then snorted. "Yes, I see your point. But they'll be safe here. Go. Help Sir Ken. Find out who did this." Her eyes were very cold. "And when you do, make sure you leave some for me."

And Sano almost loved her, then, standing under the dying moon with vengeance in her eyes. He grinned at her.

"You got it, Foxy."

"Take the horse." She waved idly in its direction as she turned away. "I don't have the space for it, and you'll need the speed. I don't care how much you hate them."

"Yes, ma'm," he muttered, and mounted up.

~*~

Sano's reappearance stirred up the hive again. He found himself confronted, this time, by someone he dimly remembered as Kenshin's chief retainer, who demanded to know where the children were.

"Safe," Sano said, dismounting gingerly. He hated horses. "That's all you need to know."

The samurai drew himself up, his long face darkening with rage, and started to say something. Sano cut him off.

"D' _you_ really believe she killed herself?" He held the other man's gaze, stubborn, and watched him give way.

"…no," he finally conceded. Sano nodded, grimly glad that he wasn't going to have to fight his way in.

"Exactly. So the kid're somewhere safe, an' that's where they're gonna stay 'til I got this sorted out."

The chief retainer looked down his long nose, eyes cold, and Sano knew he wasn't going to forget this. " _You_ will?"

"Yeah." Sano shoved his hands in his pockets, acid in his lopsided grin. "'Cause right now, I don't trust _you_ lot, either."

With that he went inside, and no one tried to stop him. Kenshin still hadn't moved, though he'd lowered the body to rest with its head in his lap, his fingers tangled in her hair. Someone had brought in a brighter lantern, and Sano could see the shine of dried tears streaking his face.

"Kenshin."

His friend didn't look up.

"Kenshin, y'gotta stand up." Sano went to Kenshin's side, reaching out and then pulling back at the last minute, uncertain. " _Stand up_ , dammit!" His fist clenched at his side. "This is a setup, dammit, can't you see that? Why the hell would she kill herself? Someone _did_ this, and we gotta find out who, an' make 'em pay! Sure, it won't bring her back to life but – it's somethin', ain't it?"

His voice cracked as he spoke, a desperate fear thrumming in his veins. Because he knew his friend, and the cracks that ran deep in his soul. How could he not, after that first winter, the first time he'd sat with Kenshin through the anniversary – and now there would be two, Sano thought dimly, two seasons given over to Kenshin's mourning.

 _Would be_. Not might be. Because Kenshin was _not_ going to do the stupid thing.

Silence. But he thought he saw Kenshin's lashes tremble and kept going, emboldened. _Any_ response…

"Ain't it? I mean, shit, Kenshin, I met the lady. She didn't have anythin' worth dyin' _for_ , 'specially not lately – "

"Yes, she did." Sano stuttered to a stop as Kenshin raised his head. "I was wrong, Sano. That I was."

There was nothing at all in his eyes. Sano's throat worked, thick with unnamable emotion.

"…wrong? Whaddya mean, _wrong?_ "

Kenshin looked down again, studying the body, and touched the tips of his fingers gently to its lips.

"Forgive me," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I thought… no. I let myself believe. Blind and selfish, and a fool. Forgive me. Forgive me…"

"Forgive you _what?_ " Sano's breath caught hard in the back of his throat. "Kenshin, what are y' _talkin'_ about?"

The shadows flickered and danced, casting the room at strange and tilting angles. The house was silent, its inhabitants still stunned, and it seemed as though the force of the event had stilled the world itself. No winds blew, no birds called. Or perhaps the world had shrunk, had become no more than Sano and Kenshin in this bloody room, and the bodies that lay like broken dolls.

"Lord Tokugawa spoke with her, on Tanabata Eve." There was a strange, serene smile hovering at the edge of Kenshin's lips. "Did I tell you that? I didn't realize, until now, what it meant… she said they talked about her father. Her _father_. Of course." He almost laughed then, bitter. "I should have seen. I know what that man is capable of. _I should have seen_."

He bent down and kissed the body on the forehead, once, before he slid its head gently from his lap and laid it on the tatami like it was something holy.

"I should have seen."

Sano watched, beginning to understand. Horror surged from the pit of his stomach to set his heart racing, dizzy with the implications.

"Kenshin," he started to say. "Kenshin, no, y'can't think that – _shit_ , Kenshin, there's no way y'wouldn't've noticed if she didn't wanna – goddamn, Kenshin, I've _met_ the woman, she'd'a slit _your_ throat before her own, if you'd been – "

He couldn't finish the sentence; it hurt too much. Kenshin stared up at Sano with eyes like the void.

"She was samurai," he said quietly. "Born to serve. And I was her husband. What other path did she have, if she couldn't do her duty?"

Footsteps pounded along the hall. Sano whipped around, moving to stand between Kenshin and the door as it flew open. A messenger stood in the hall, breathing hard.

"My lord," he said. "My lord Himura, the shōgun summons you to audience."

"Oh, _hell_ no – "

"It's all right, Sano." Kenshin's voice, clear and calm. Sano turned to see that Kenshin was standing, his back straight, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. "I'll go."

Kenshin brushed past him, eyes still dead. Sano followed, silent.

~*~

No one stopped them. The guards and servants only watched, wide-eyed, as they made their way through the tangled halls of the shōgun's residence in perfect silence. Kenshin walked like he knew where he was going, and looked neither right nor left.

The shōgun was waiting for them in one of the smaller chambers, four guards arrayed around him. Kenshin gave a perfunctory nod, barely a bow, as he stepped in and settled before his liege. Sano didn't even bother with that. One of the guards started to stand, fury creasing his face, before the shōgun raised his hand in warning. The guard subsided. Sano lounged back against the doorway, crossed his arms, and waited.

"Himura."

"Eminence." Kenshin's voice was colder than Sano had ever heard it, short and clipped. "I've come to hold you to your promise."

Sano straightened, frowning. The shōgun gave a heavy sigh, resting his hands carefully atop his thighs.

"I must ask you to reconsider," he said quietly, as though there were no witnesses. "For the good of the nation – "

"With respect," Kenshin interrupted, "there is nothing to reconsider. A promise was made when the marriage was arranged. That promise will be kept, one way or another." His gaze bore into the shōgun and Sano – who'd been on the receiving end of that sort of stare from Kenshin, once or twice before – wondered how the man could keep his face so still.

A small frown tugged at Lord Tokugawa's lips.

"Leave us," he said, waving to the guards. They glanced at one another, uncertain, and got slowly to their feet. The shōgun snorted, hearing their unspoken objection.

"And what could any of you do, if this man resolved to kill me? Other than die, that is. Get out."

They hurried away. Sano did not. The shōgun gave him long, considering glance before turning his attention back to Kenshin.

"Kenshin," he said softly, and that made Sano start. His fists dropped to his sides and clenched, anger surging in him that the man had addressed Kenshin as a friend after what he'd done – all that he'd been responsible for. "Is there nothing else?"

Kenshin laughed then, a small and bitter thing, like the stone in a pickled plum.

"No, my lord." He shook his head. "No." Although his lips curved slightly, the face he made was no more a smile than a corpse's bared teeth was a grin. "Not since Tanabata." There was a fury in his eyes that Sano had never seen before, barely held in check. "That mistake surprised me, my lord, when I realized it tonight. You've always so renowned for your patience."

"Tanabata…?" The shōgun searched Kenshin's face, understanding dawning in his own. "Kenshin. I swear to you, on the heads of my children – by my title and all I have ever possessed – nothing I said to your wife that night was intended – "

"I am sure you _intended_ nothing, my lord," Kenshin bit out. "Nonetheless. The act occurred. Keep your promise, or I will."

"What _promise_ – ?" Sano started to ask, before Kenshin shot him a subduing glance.

The shōgun looked away, pain written briefly on his features. And Sano thought, for a moment, that it might be genuine.

"…very well." The moment ended; he drew himself up and was only the shōgun. "The ceremony will be performed tomorrow, at dawn. Some time is required," he explained dryly, "both to prepare the site and gather the necessary components. I will stand as your second, unless there is some other you would prefer."

"I have no preference," Kenshin said, bowing. "I am grateful for your understanding, my lord."

Sano stared, gape-mouthed, as Kenshin stood and walked out of the room. The world tilted, out of balance.

"You're just gonna let him – " he sputtered, advancing on the shōgun in a sudden haze of fury, and grief, and fear – because it had happened so quickly, and he hadn't even had a chance to _say_ anything, Kenshin had just gone and done it and this _asshole_ had let him – and now Kenshin was gonna _kill_ himself –

"And do you think I can stop him?" The shōgun drew himself to his feet in one swift motion, his presence suddenly overpowering. There was anger in his face, anger that Sano didn't believe. Because if he'd really cared, he'd never have let Kenshin walk out that door. "Do you think there is a _single thing_ I can say or do, at this point, to sway that man from his chosen path?"

" _I_ think y'used 'im up an' now that he's gone an' broken on ya y'r just gonna just spit 'im out!" Sano snapped, his gutter cant thicker than it had been in years. "'Cause that's what you fuckers do, ain't it? Use us 'till we got no use left, then turn us out t'die an' call it _mercy_. Y'r all the same, you samurai fucks, th' only thin' that changes're y'goddamn _names_ – "

He shut his mouth, abruptly aware of who he was talking to. The shōgun seemed to sigh, his gaze drifting down and inwards.

"So it is," he said, softly enough that Sano had to strain to hear. "So it has ever been, it would seem. And I will answer for what I have done, in this life or the next." His eyes lifted, meeting Sano's, and Sano's mouth went dry at the power in them. "But for now, young man – you have a day and a night. If you want your friend to live… _find him a reason_."

He was still mustering a comeback when the shōgun left.

~*~

Rage knotted and tore in Sano's chest as he stalked through the halls, daring someone to challenge him. No one took him up on it. No one ever dared to meet his eyes.

 _Find him a reason_ , the shōgun had said, as if he was ordering a servant after a cup of sake. As if this was Sano's problem to fix – and the real bitch of it was that the jumped-up samurai bastard was _right_. No one else gave any kind of a real damn about Kenshin, not the shōgun, not the court, not his retainers, _nobody_. It had always been that way, just him and Megumi covering Kenshin's back and it had worked perfectly fucking fine until that hollyhocked _fuck_ had gotten the notion in his head that Kenshin needed a title and another captive bride and a goddamn _estate_ , like it wasn't bad enough he'd made the poor man samurai.

Some fucking reward. But that was the way of things, wasn't it, even if you were born samurai: the shit always rolls downhill.

Ahead of him, leaving the palace, he caught a glimpse of red hair in the torchlight. Sano bounded after Kenshin, words crowding on his tongue.

"Kenshin! _Kenshin!_ "

Kenshin looked back, briefly, and halted where he was.

"Kenshin, y'fucking _can't_." Sano skidded to a stop, barking his toes on the courtyard's stone. "Don't do this."

"I have to." The death in Kenshin's eyes flickered for a moment, raw grief showing through like a wound. "Sano – it doesn't matter what I thought – I _hurt_ her, Sano. Again. Again, I failed to protect the one person I most needed to…" He shook his head. "No more."

"Then what about the girls?" Sano threw out, desperate. "Y'can't just leave 'em – they lost their mom, their dad, their sister, y'want 'em t'lose you, too?"

The torches cast stark shadows across Kenshin's face as he took a step back, anguish tightening his face.

"I – "

Sano pressed his advantage.

"You do this, they won't have _nobody_."

"I don't…" Kenshin's throat worked, his fists twisting in cloth at his sides. Finally, he looked away. "I don't have the right, anymore. After what I did – misusing her as I did, taking what I had no right to… she would never trust me with them. I…"

His voice was small, and very broken. There was a look in his eyes as though he was understanding something for the first time; a sick look, like he might faint.

"I have no right," he said again. "Sano, please…"

Sano crossed his arms, his bones running alternately hot and cold, and said nothing. Kenshin bowed his head.

"I don't expect you to understand," he said, after a long moment, and walked away.

Sano watched him, the knot in his chest burning tighter and hotter until it burst; then he roared, swearing, and slammed his fist into the wall. The stone cracked, splintering and digging under his skin. He welcomed the pain.

"Sir Sano?" The voice was male, mild and cultured, and gentle enough that he wanted to punch its owner on general principle. He snarled instead.

"Now is not the fucking time."

"Please, Sir Sano." There was a soft scuff as whoever it was took a step closer. "Although I see by your garb that you do not share my Christian faith, perhaps there is nonetheless some counsel I might give you, as one…" he hesitated here, briefly. "…as one spiritual advisor, to another."

That – unusual as it was – managed to cut through red haze building in Sano's eyes. He blinked, shaking his head to clear it, and focused on the newcomer. He was a tall, lean fellow, almost willowy, and dressed in the robes of a Portuguese priest. His eyes were wide and liquid, and he touched a strange set of prayer beads briefly to his lips before he spoke again.

"It is possible, perhaps, that I might be of some service, in this difficult time."

There was an urgent twist in his voice, too urgent for what he was saying. Sano frowned.

"All right." He crossed his arms, aware that he towered over the priest and using it. "Talk."

"Perhaps in a more comfortable location?" The urgency hadn't faded. If anything, it had grown stronger. "There is a place I know, not far from here, which is quite suited to important conversations."

Sano looked at him for a long moment, judging. On the one hand, this smelled ripe as a fishmarket at noon. On the other… if the girls couldn't knock Kenshin out of his stupor, nothing could. The only thing that might sway him was proof that the lady hadn't felt herself ill-used and killed herself to escape the torment of her marriage. That she had – as Sano believed – been murdered, by someone who knew Kenshin well enough to make it look like a suicide. Because a murder… a murder, Kenshin would live long enough to avenge. And in that time, he might be able to come to terms with what had happened. A murder, he might be able to survive.

A suicide, though – another wife dead at her own hand, because _he'd_ made a mistake, however innocent that mistake might be – that was guaranteed to drive him into the deepest possible despair.

Maybe the priest was blowing smoke, or totally uninvolved. And maybe he wasn't. But Sano didn't have anywhere else to start.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Lead the way, priest."

~*~

The priest led him to a small, secluded garden, one of the dozens of pockets of greenery that laced the palace grounds like pools in a forest stream. One of the conceits of the upper class: they liked having little nooks to hide away in. This particular garden wasn't much more than a bed of moss shielded by a few trees, tucked in the corner where two walls met. Ivy climbed up the stone, black under the moonlight.

Sano waited for the priest to start. The young man clutched himself; shuddered, once; and then, with a sigh, he spoke.

"Lady Himura did not kill herself."

Triumph threatened to break Sano's carefully blank expression and he stomped on it, waiting. The priest bit hard on his thumbnail, unable to meet Sano's eyes.

"Forgive me. I break my holy vow of obedience, speaking to you… My Japanese name, the name I was born with, is Ichiro. I am an initiate, only, but I have the gifts of tongues and so I am – I am – "

His throat worked.

"I was sent to Edo as an agent of the conspiracy to destroy Lord Himura and, with him gone, overthrow the Tokugawa regime." The words came faster, now, stumbling over each other, leaving Sano neither time nor space to respond. "I do not know where the origins of the conspiracy lie, only that it exists… and that my brothers in Christ believe it may be in the best interests of the Holy Father in Rome to allow it to succeed, and I do not. I do not! I have prayed, for weeks now, that God might tame my sinful heart and lead me to obedience, but He has not done so. And even as I struggled with my shame, I was sent here, to be the order's agent in this matter – to assist the conspirators, if they so required it, though they did not and I do not – I do not _know_ what I would have done, had they asked – "

Sano took a step forward, caught somewhere between cold fury and confusion, his head still light and spinning with the night's horrors. Nothing seemed quite real, least of all this.

"Slow down, kid," he said, guessing that the man was younger than him. "Whaddya mean, conspiracy?"

The priest hugged himself tighter, his breath coming short and hard. Then he closed his eyes, tangling his fingers in his prayer beads.

"There is a conspiracy," he began again, more calmly this time. "A conspiracy to weaken the Tokugawa by removing Lord Himura from the playing field. The – the other Japanese priests and converts, they do not know. Only I know. I am gifted at languages, you see, and the heads of my order believed that – that because I am peasant-born, and not samurai, because without the order I would still _be_ a peasant, I could be trusted. And they needed my gift." He breathed deep, shuddering. "It is known that Lord Tokugawa does not trust the Portuguese. It is believed by my order that, in time, he will expel them from the country. So, you see, his removal from power is our – their – best interests. This can be accomplished, but only at great cost – and not at all, if Lord Himura still lives to stop it."

"So y'killed his wife?" Sano was numb, head buzzing like angry bees, wanting to pound the man into the ground and wanting, just barely more than that, to understand.

"No." The priest shook his head. "We – knew of the conspiracy. Passed information – but the act was not ours to perform. I was sent here, to Edo, under pretense, to lend what aid I could, but only if it was asked of me. For if the conspiracy failed, it would be better that we be able to pretend our hands were clean…"

Sano stepped hard on his rage, holding himself back, and asked the important question very, _very_ carefully.

"An' was it asked of you?"

The priest rolled a bead between his fingers, his lips moving briefly in prayer.

"No. And – I do not know what I would have done, had it been."

"Okay." Sano forced himself to ebb, to focus on what was here and now, not on vengeance against forces he didn't yet understand. "Fine. So who did do it? An' why're y' tellin' me _now_ , when it doesn't do any damn good?"

"I don't know. Traitors – men among Lord Himura's retinue who had been suborned. I don't know their names, or faces. And I – " The priest looked up at Sano, anguish written in his pale face. "I tried to warn Lord Himura. I did not – I failed, I spoke too obscurely – I thought, perhaps, if I could jog his suspicions, enough that he pressured me, then I might be forced to tell, and then I would not have to choose – I am a Christian!" he cried, passion cracking through his cultured tones. "I believe in God Almighty, who made heaven and all of earth, in the salvation of souls and the forgiveness of sins! But first, I am _Japanese_ – and I hear more than my brothers in Christ believe. Hear and understand, as they do not – that they would plunge us into civil war again, into more chaos, more _death_ , another endless war, and I cannot believe that such a thing is what God desires!"

He gasped for air, choking, and as hard as Sano looked he couldn't see a lie.

"I have prayed, and prayed, and I cannot reconcile myself with my superiors' orders. My conscience will not permit it. And so I must – I must believe my conscience, above all things, even though it places me in opposition to my superiors. I must." The priest was speaking more to himself than anyone else. Sano listened anyway. "Is it not taught that our conscience is our link to God? If I cannot be obedient in this – if He has not taken my doubts and fears from me – then I must believe that it is His will that I do this."

Sano watched him closely. He seemed to be trembling; there was exhaustion written in his face, sleeplessness and fear, and too much emotion for what he was saying to be a lie. And youth – he _was_ young, younger than Sano. Young enough for pity.

"Okay." Sano stuck his hands in his pockets. "Y'got any proof?"

"Proof?" The priest looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"I know Kenshin. He'll need more'n your word, no offense." Sano's mind was racing, trying to leap above the tangled, raw emotions that had always been his downfall. He couldn't afford to lose his cool, not now. Kenshin's life depended on it. "We need proof, or he's gonna go ahead an' slit his belly come tomorrow dawn, an' there ain't nothin' that'll stop him 'cept knowin' for a fact that he didn't drive the lady t'kill herself t'escape him."

The priest was staring, lips parted.

"Is that why…?" He swallowed. "Forgive me. I – as I said, I knew only that the conspiracy existed, and what their goal was, and a little of when they planned to strike. I – still do not know why the Lady Himura was the one who. And I did _not_ know, until it was done, that she was the target."

"Ain't your business." Sano said shortly. "Without goin' into the details... anyone who knows Kenshin, knows what seein' somethin' like that'd do t'him. There's more ways t'kill a man than with a sword."

The priest's throat worked as he swallowed again. Then he seemed to straighten.

"I – I know there was another agent. A child. Someone who, if necessary, could draw close to Lord Himura without raising suspicion… but Lord Himura had no pages, so I do not know who that child might be."

Sano exhaled, running his fingers through his hair.

"Damn."

"We might ask Sir Uramura," the priest suggested, hesitantly.

"Who?"

"Lord Himura's chief retainer. I know – I know, for a _fact_ , that he had no part in this. Or if he did – he would gladly turn on them, now. Because they would have had to lie to him, if it was their plan to kill Lady Himura. He would never consent to harm Lord Kamiya's daughter."

Sano considered this, for a moment. Then he nodded, turning on his heel.

"Right. C'mon, kid. An' try t'keep up – I lose sight a' you, I might start getting' suspicious. Know what I mean?"

The priest took another shuddering breath and hurried to follow him.

~*~

Dawn was lightening the eastern sky by the time they managed to hunt down Sir Uramura. He was returning from Zōjō temple, having escorted the lady's body there to await cremation. No one seemed to know when her funeral would take place; they were too busy fretting over their own fates to worry about a body's. Word of Kenshin's decision had spread, and no one knew what was going to happen next.

Sano found Uramura at the gates of the castle, and was surprised to see that the man was walking alone. His shoulders were slumped, his head bowed; he was studying the ground in front of him as he walked with the careful deliberation of a man fighting powerful emotion.

Sano hailed him. He looked up, hi frown deepening in his long face as he recognized Sano – and Sano recognized him as the man who'd challenged him about the location of the children.

"You," he said flatly, coming to a halt. Sano stopped a few paces away, holding out his palms in a supplicant's gesture.

"Me."

"What do you want?"

"A favor."

The samurai barked out a laugh. Sano shrugged, feigning ease as the new day's light crept across the rooftops.

"I got a lead on who might'a killed the lady. Seems you're in the best position to help. But if y'don't wanna…" He started to turn away.

"What do you know?" Uramura asked, quickly. Sano gestured to the priest, standing behind him with his prayer beads still knotted in his fingers, lips moving ceaselessly in silent prayer.

"It's more what _he_ knows," Sano explained, "an' it ain't for just anyone's ears. You got a place we can talk privately?"

Uramura looked at them both for a long moment, eyes remote. Then he nodded.

"My office should be secure. Come with me."

He led them into the long, low barracks building attached to Kenshin's hushed manor. His office was a small, cramped space, much smaller than the communal work areas, but it was at the very end of the barracks, separate from the common space by storage. And there was no one around to hear.

"Go on, then," Sano said, once they'd settled. "Tell 'im."

The priest gulped, looking at Sano and finding no reassurance there. Then, with another hard swallow, he squared his shoulders and told his story. Uramura listened silently, no hint of his feelings crossing his face until the very end, when he let out a long, aching sigh.

"I see," he said, and folded his hands neatly in his lap.

"Anyway," Sano said, after enough time had passed. "We gotta find this kid – an' we figured, since you'd know who's part a' the household an' all, y'might know where to start looking."

"As it happens, I do." Uramura's voice was far too calm. "Or, I used to. However, the individual I believe you seek has been missing since yesterday morning."

Sano frowned. "Whaddya mean?"

Uramura's eyes were distant. "Lady Kaoru's cousin, young Sir Yahiko, disguised himself as a stableboy and joined Lord Himura's household during his introductory visit to Hito province. When the lady discovered what he had done, she ordered him to return home. He came to me, instead, and I agreed to help him remain, hiding what I had done from the lady. At the time, I… did not see the harm."

"Didn't see the harm." Sano said it flatly, his patience wearing. So many secrets – so many _lies_ , of one kind or another. How had Kenshin managed to breathe with all this deception crowding the air? "The fuck are you on about?"

Uramura didn't flinch, though Sano could see that he wanted to.

"I thought that the boy was only concerned for Lady Kaoru's welfare. He was the appointed heir, since Lord Kamiya had no sons; they were raised more a siblings than cousins. I thought it would do no harm to let him stay until he saw for himself that she was well, and in no danger from Lord Himura." He hung his head. "It seems I was wrong."

"I'll fuckin' say!" Sano crossed his arms, sitting back and squashing his anger with everything he had. "Now what're gonna fuckin' do? You don't know where the kid is?"

"No." Uramura shook his head. "When I went to wake him yesterday morning, he was gone. His possessions were still there. I sent men out, discreetly, to search for him, but none of them have returned."

"Well, _fuck_." Sano scratched his head and tried to think of something to say, something to suggest. He couldn't. "Fuck."

"Where did you send the men to look?" The priest flushed as he spoke, as if he was startled at his own forwardness. "Perhaps we might go search ourselves…"

"That will not be necessary."

Sano half-rose, fists clenching. Urumura grabbed the hilt of his shortsword, pulling it partway from the sheath. The priest tried to make himself very, very small.

The man who now stood in the doorway – the man whom none of them had heard or sensed coming – surveyed them expressionlessly. He was tall, and very lean, with black hair that hung over deep green eyes. A boy leaned against him, badly beaten.

"Sir Yahiko!" Uramura gasped, paling as he rose to his feet. "And Lord Aoshi – what's going on?"

"Who the fuck is this?" Sano demanded. The newcomer – Aoshi – helped the boy kneel. The kid grabbed on to the edge of Uramura's desk, using it to keep himself upright. He'd been thoroughly worked over, his skin a darkening patchwork of bruises.

"I am an ally to the Lady Kaoru," the man said, kneeling. "That is all you need to know."

"Excuse me?" Sano reared back. "That's not your fucking _call_ – "

"He is," Uramura interrupted, settling back on his heels. "Lord Aoshi is... was… a close ally of Lord Kamiya. With Lord Kamiya's death, that alliance passed to his daughter."

Sano kept his voice as flat as he could, head pounding like a drum. "An' _nobody_ told Kenshin about this?"

Aoshi raised an eyebrow. "Such matters were left to the Lady Kaoru's discretion," he said simply. "I reveal myself now because it is the most efficient way to come to her aid. That is all."

"Little late for that, buddy." Sano snorted, crossing his arms as he sank reluctantly back down, jaw aching as he ground his teeth. This was getting _weird_ – conspiracies and secret allies and god knows what else waiting to pop out of the woodwork…

Stay calm. Listen. Wait. Look for the truth. That was what he had to do. Not go haring off – he couldn't afford to fuck this up. If he did… this time, Kenshin wouldn't be there to bail him out.

Aoshi gave him a solemn look.

"That… remains to be seen. Yahiko."

The boy, who had been quiet until now, flinched. He looked up at Aoshi and swallowed.

Then he started talking.

He'd made his bargain only a week after Kaoru's marriage. A man had approached him, a representative of the conspiracy, and promised Kaoru's safety if Yahiko found a way to infiltrate Lord Himura's household and pass information. He would also serve as the point of contact for the conspiracies and its members within the manor: samurai who still sought vengeance for Lord Kamiya. So he'd made the bargain. What did it matter if a demon died, as long as Kaoru was safe?

At first, his plan was to get Lord Himura to take him on as a page. When that failed, he disguised himself as a stableboy and snuck into Lord Himura's retinue, leaving a note for his parents claiming that he had gone to try and convince Lord Himura to take him on. They'd never followed up, so he'd assumed they were content to leave him to his own devices. After all, he was eleven years old, and it was time for him to start making his own decisions.

But Lord Himura hadn't been what he'd expected. He didn't abuse his servants; in fact, he was very kind, even when they made errors that he had every right to dismiss them over. And no matter how hard Yahiko looked, he couldn't see any evidence that he was hurting Kaoru or the girls. The one time he'd spoken to Lord Himura – who hadn't recognized him, as they'd never met – the man had been very gentle. And Yahiko had begun to think that maybe the rumours weren't true…

Still, when Kaoru had ordered him home, he'd wanted to stay. Because he wasn't sure. And if he _did_ become sure, then it'd be useful, right? He could warn Lord Himura. But he hadn't known exactly when the attack was coming – so yesterday morning, when his contact had intercepted him on the way back from the bathhouse and told him what was happening, he'd been surprised. And sleepy. And hesitated.

They'd gotten the truth from him, then, and beaten him to stop him from warning Lord Himura. He didn't know anything else.

Silence filled the room after he'd finished. Then Aoshi shifted.

"And here is what Yahiko did not know," he said, drawing out a letter and placing it in the center of the desk. "After the incident with the Black Hat, Lady Kaoru wrote to my wife, asking us to investigate a man called Whitehair, whom the Black Hat had mentioned as being his employer. We had been aware of a conspiracy against Lord Himura; with this name, we were able to trace the conspiracy to its source."

"Which is?" Sano ground his teeth, knowing that he needed all the information and nonetheless wanting to get to the part where he could hit someone.

"Several nobleman, gathered and united under the auspice of this Whitehair. Whitehair has a personal grudge against the Tokugawa, and Kenshin in particular. I know his location."

"Then what are we waitin' around here for?" Sano was on his feet in a flash, heading for the door. "We gotta get Kenshin – tell 'im it was murder, give him something t'focus on – "

Aoshi held up his hand, quietly commanding. "It was not murder."

"Whaddya mean, _not murder?_ " Sano rounded on him, fuming. "You ain't sayin' she killed herself?"

"I am saying I do not believe she is dead," Aoshi said, so calmly that Sano almost didn't understand what he was saying. Then he did.

"What the _fuck_ are you on about?" Sano said, staring. "There was a fucking _body_."

Aoshi made a dismissive gesture. "That means nothing. A body can be faked. Listen: what benefit could there be in killing the Lady Kaoru? The destruction of Lord Himura, but that is all. And from what I understand of Whitehair's nature, that is not enough, in his mind, to warrant the death of a young woman. Especially not a young woman with a claim on Hito province."

Yahiko sucked in a breath, wincing at his ribs expanded. Aoshi nodded.

"Indeed. As things stand, the Lady Kaoru is the only eligible female of close enough descent from the Kamiya to have a claim. Her sisters are too young, and other female relatives too distant. Marriage to her enables a claim on the province that would be otherwise… problematic. Between that, and certain idiosyncrasies I have uncovered in Whitehair's nature, I believe that he has kept her alive."

Sano sank slowly back down, staring hard at Aoshi. The light-headedness was back, the surging sense of unreality: but the man seemed so damn _sure_. Like a rock in a hurricane.

"Can y'prove it?" he asked

"I can."

"How?"

"I must examine her body."

"What the _fuck?_ " Sano exploded, slamming his hand down on the mats for emphasis. "We can't just – it's her fucking _body_ , show some respect – "

Aoshi inclined his head in acknowledgment, then continued.

"There are ways, known to myself and to others, to construct a realistic and convincing simulacra of a dead body. I cannot determine the nature of the body discovered last evening without closer inspection."

"I…" Sano grasped desperately for a reason not to, shuddering at the thought. "We can't just…"

Aoshi shrugged. "It is the only way to be sure."

"Okay, but how're we gonna get t'it in time? It's already dawn!" Sano argued, despite the sinking feeling in his gut that told him the man was probably right.

"I could arrange for access…" Uramura murmured.

"No." Aoshi shook his head. "I know where the Lady Kaoru is being held, if she is alive. There will be agents watching the corpse. If she lives, and it is made obvious that we know she lives, they will move her. This is better done in secrecy. We will go tonight; the ritual is scheduled for dawn tomorrow, is it not?"

"…yeah…" Sano's heart slammed against his ribs. The whole thing was sick. But – if she was still alive… if they could prove it, then Kenshin…

"All right." Sano took a deep breath. "Let's do it."

~*~

Sano didn't tell Kenshin, in the end. He'd thought about it, all the way back to Megumi's to check in on the girls. And he'd still been thinking about it when he'd told Megumi what had happened, so he'd asked her, and she'd raised her delicate brows at him in condescension.

"And what could you tell him?" she'd said, in a tone of utmost reason. "That the Lady Kaoru was either murdered or is still alive, and the only way to find out which is close examination of her corpse? That's hardly cheerful news."

"Yeah, but – I mean, I should at least tell him that this isn't his fault…"

"Isn't it?" She'd raised a hand, silencing him as he started to object. "Consider it from his perspective. He believes – wrongly, it would seem, but nonetheless quite firmly – that Lady Kaoru killed herself because he abused and dishonored her. All you can tell him with any certainty is that it is very likely – _not_ certain – that she did not kill herself, but was either murdered or kidnapped by a conspiracy of his enemies. So it's still his fault.."

"But it ain't – "

"You know as well as I do that he won't see it that way. Wait until you know for sure. If all you can offer him is vengeance, then offer him that – but don't torment him with a hope that may be false. That _will_ kill him."

He hadn't been able to argue with that. He hadn't been able to face the girls, either, so he'd taken Megumi at her word that they were as well as they could be and left for a long day of waiting. Uramura and Aoshi had spent it hunting traitors, searching through the long list of men in Kenshin's retinue to find those who might have been involved in the conspiracy. The kid had been laid out in the next room, with the priest playing nursemaid and mumbling prayers to himself, looking like a man in the grip of fever.

Only Sano had had nothing to do but wait.

So wait he did, until nightfall and a little bit past that, to give the temple time to settle in and sleep.

Now he and Aoshi pressed silent into the shadows outside the building where Lady Kaoru's possibly-fake body lay, waiting for its cremation. It had taken them the better part of the night to sneak in; Aoshi didn't leave anything to chance. He'd waited until he was certain of the guards' patterns before waving them on, and now the night sky was blushing its way towards morning. It wasn't dawn, not quite yet, but it would be close. Very close. Close enough that Sano was having trouble keeping still.

"Let's _go_ ," he hissed. "We're running out of time!"

"Be silent," Aoshi said, curtly. Then he gave a sharp gesture, sliding out of the shadows and whipping around the corner to the building's entrance. Sano followed, ducking through the door just as it swung closed.

The inside was dark and reeked of incense. The air was dry with purifying salt, and in the faint moonlight filtering through the high, barred windows Sano could almost believe that the lady was only sleeping.

Aoshi drew a knife from his belt.

"What are you doing?" Sano whispered.

"Examining the body," Aoshi said simply, and plunged it into the corpse's belly. Sano choked back a shout, his stomach lurching at the wet suck and slap of meat tearing apart. Aoshi worked silently, face grim, and Sano had to turn away.

"Ah," Aoshi said, after an interminable moment. "Look."

Fighting back nausea, Sano looked back to see Aoshi drawing something thin and coiling from the body, holding it up to the light. Rope.

_Rope!_

Aoshi waved him in closer and Sano went, shuddering. He pulled aside the flaps he'd made in the corpse's stomach, letting the dim light flood the empty cavity.

"… _fuck_ ," Sano breathed. Because it _was_ empty – no stomach or lungs or liver, just a lattice of wood and rope where muscle and bone should be.

"Dead human flesh, preserved and shaped around a wooden skeleton. This is a false corpse." Aoshi's eyes met Sano's, gleaming with cold triumph. "Lady Kaoru is alive."

~*~

Sano had tried, once, when he was young and dumb, to outrun the wind. He'd failed, and Brother Souzo had laughed and told him that he'd gained a piece of wisdom in exchange for his aching feet: no man can defy the natural laws.

But Sano had never stopped trying.

Now he was older, with longer legs and stronger lungs, and he ran faster than he had ever run, because the sun was rising and it would rise red if he didn't make it. So he'd make it. There was no other option.

He stopped only once, after he'd vaulted his way onto the palace grounds, and that was to grab a passer-by and demand directions. They told him, trembling, and he took off towards the private courtyard where his best friend was going to do the unimaginably stupid as soon as the sun began to lift her yellow head above the horizon.

It was going to be a very clear day.

Sano ran, scattering servants and courtiers like frightened geese, and his heart beat a frantic tattoo against his ribs. The sky was light now, gray and pink and faint, faint gold.

Gold. The sun was rising.

He cold-cocked a guard set to keep the ceremony private and burst into the courtyard, panting. Kenshin was kneeling in the center of the jagged tiles, on two new mats set side-by-side, his fingers trembling as he grasped the dagger and aimed it at his gut, his _hara_ , the source of a warrior's spirit and seat of all emotion. The shōgun stood to one side, his sword at ready.

Kenshin's hand moved –

" _No!_ "

Sano was across the courtyard before he felt the force of the shout leaving his raw throat, his hand wrapped tight around Kenshin's wrist as his best friend strained to complete the blow. Kenshin's eyes were distant, seeing something – someone – that no one else could, caught between life and death and aching to die. Sano tightened his grips, feeling Kenshin's bones creak, and hoped that the pain would be enough to jolt him to awareness.

"Kenshin, she's alive!" The words spilled out, frantic and uncalculated. "She's _alive_ , Kenshin, it was a trick, some bastard tricked us, tryin' t'fuck with your head, the corpse was a fake. She's alive and she's countin' on you, Kenshin, so you've got t' _let go of the fucking knife, Kenshin_ – _!_ "

The haze in Kenshin's eyes seemed to lift. But there was still too much grief there for the human soul to bear – grief, and dawning betrayal as Sano forced the dagger to hang unmoving, the very tip of it pricking Kenshin's skin.

"She's alive," Sano said again, low and desperate. "Y'gotta believe me. She's alive."

Kenshin's lips moved, a soundless _no_ , and Sano saw in his eyes that he did not believe.

"Would I lie t'you? About this? Would I fuckin' lie? _Would I lie about this, Kenshin?_ " Sano demanded, staring into Kenshin's dazed, unbelieving eyes.

And, finally, _finally_ , his eyes focused on Sano's face, searching, staring, begging. _Finally_ – for the first time since Sano'd come into that bedroom-turned abattoir and seen him clutching the (false!) corpse to his chest, Kenshin _saw._

"…Sano?"

"She's alive." Sano was breathing hard. "I can prove it. It was a trick. Someone who knew what you'd do, afterwards. They didn't kill her. _She's alive_."

A single, strangled moan. Kenshin's hand convulsed. The dagger fell onto his lap and slid off, spinning, to rest on the matting below.

"Alive…?"

"Yeah," Sano said, and loosened his grip. Kenshin gulped in air, breathing like a man just pulled from the sea. "It was a trick. Some kinda conspiracy – but that body, it's a fake. A – like a doll or somethin', but make of flesh, made t'look like her. It wasn't real."

"Not real." Kenshin's hand fell to his lap, his face pale and blank.

"And you can prove this?" the shōgun asked. Sano had almost forgotten that he was there. He looked up, blinking in the half-risen sun.

"Could y'give us a minute?" he snapped, irritated. Kenshin laughed, high-pitched and almost hysterical.

"Sano – " he gasped, his free hand gripping Sano's wrist. "I – "

"Take it easy, now," Sano said, the shōgun forgotten. He slid one arm around Kenshin, supporting him. "Easy."

"Show me," Kenshin said, in a voice like cracking stone. "Show me, Sano."

"Sure thing. Lemme just get you up, here…"

Slowly, stumbling, Sano got Kenshin to his feet. Kenshin wavered a little, leaning on him, then stood alone.

"It's still at Zōjō temple." Sano stayed close to Kenshin, worried. The man looked ready to collapse, for all his eyes burned with a frantic light. "You gonna make it that far?"

"Yes." Kenshin took a step, nearly fell, and then caught himself. "Sano. I need to – "

"I will call a palanquin," the shōgun said, striding out of the courtyard. It seemed to Sano that there was something very like relief in his eyes. "I'll send ahead to the temple, as well."

He paused at the edge of the porch, looking back at Sano. Sano met his eyes without flinching.

"Well done," he said.

"I didn't do it f'r you," Sano bit out, and turned his back. He though he heard the shōgun chuckle as he walked away.

"Sano…" Kenshin took another step. "It's true?"

He had the look a wild thing about him, some feral, frightened creature skulking in the undergrowth, wanting to believe in the promise of warmth and shelter but too old and wary to trust. The sun rose slowly above the horizon, sheathing the world with light.

"Yeah." Sano nodded. "Saw it with my own eyes, Kenshin. I wouldn't lie about this. You _know_ I wouldn't."

"…yes." Kenshin sighed out. "…thank goodness."

His eyes slid closed and, very slowly, he collapsed.

Sano caught him, bore him up, and carried him.


	13. and build a hell in heaven's despite

Kenshin stared for a long time into the void where the false body's bowels should be, and did not know what to say. The tall, silent stranger stood to one side, unmoving; Sano stood at Kenshin's back, one hand resting carefully on his shoulder. The two flaps of the false corpse's stomach had been pinned back, making the truth clear: truth, which came from the belly, and this – _thing_ , this vile trick, had no belly to speak of. Only a spare two inches or so of sculpted meat held in place by a network of wood and rope. It was not alive.

It had never _been_ alive.

He looked at the doll's face again. _Her_ face – but not her. Not his wife. Not Kaoru. The false corpse's face was still and calm in death and he thought, vaguely, that her serenity should have been enough to break the illusion – would have been enough, if he had been in his right mind. Kaoru could never be so peaceful in the face of death. She would _fight_ – fight to her last breath, even if she had nothing left to fight for, simply to deny the enemy the pleasure of her surrender.

His head ached.

Kenshin reached out and tipped back the falsehood's jaw, peering underneath to examine the slash across its throat. His own throat was thick, nausea threatening to overwhelm him. The cut _looked_ real – of course it did, the lie was made with corpse-flesh – but he needed to know how it was _not_ real.

The stranger – Aoshi, Kenshin dimly recalled, Sano had called him Aoshi – stepped forward and pulled the head back farther. He treated it more roughly than Kenshin had dared.

"They would have brought blood with them." He spoke calmly, as if discussing the weather. "Pig's blood, or cattle. They applied it afterward. Observe."

He tilted the gash towards the thin light streaming from the high-set windows. The sun was fully risen now, illuminating the small shed where the body had been set to await cremation. Kenshin saw, in the bright glow of late summer, how the blood had been smeared haphazardly across the doll's flesh. Another thing that he should have noticed.

"I see." Kenshin lowered his hand, realizing that he'd kept it outstretched for too long. "It is… very skillfully constructed, that it is."

"It was designed for you." Aoshi released his grip on the corpse's head. It stayed where he had put it, the cut in its throat gaping towards the ceiling like a second red mouth. "There is no shame in falling for this trick."

He spoke matter-of-factly and with a faint blush of boredom, as if he had long ago tired of explaining things and did so now only as a great favor. Sano snorted, his hand tightening briefly on Kenshin's shoulder, but said nothing.

"The Lady Kaoru is alive," Aoshi continued, "and I believe she will be kept alive. The individual responsible has significant political and personal reasons to do so."

"Please explain." Kenshin let his hands fall to his side, his fingers dangling clumsily to brush against his too-white clothes. He matched the false corpse, except that he was alive and it had never drawn breath.

"Lady Kaoru retains a claim by blood on Hito province that is politically advantageous. Furthermore, the individual whom I believe to be behind all this would, for strictly personal reasons, refuse to kill her. And finally…" he gestured, encompassing the lie where it rested. "Why would they go to such lengths if they did not intend, for whatever reason, to keep the Lady Kaoru alive? If their intent was only to wound you, it would have been more efficient by far to simply kill her."

Kenshin flinched despite himself. Sano took half a step forward.

"Hey now, that's _enough_ – "

"It is the truth, Sano," Kenshin said quietly. "That it is." And then, joints creaking, he bowed to Aoshi. Bowed as low as he dared to go with his bones laced with lead. "Thank you, Sir Aoshi, for bringing me this news."

"There is no need to thank me." Aoshi's voice was clipped. "I do this for the lady's sake, and for my wife who has been her friend since childhood."

"Nevertheless," Kenshin said, holding his bow. "I am grateful."

The moment hung suspended between them, swirling with the dust-motes in the golden air. The light was beautiful, too beautiful for the macabre scene they were caught in. But not when he thought about the meaning of the scene, of the three men gathered around a corpse that was not a corpse.

She was alive. Kaoru was _alive._ Kaoru was alive and did not hate him, had not taken a knife to her throat to escape him. Kaoru was alive and he had not hurt her, had not violated or dishonored her, had not taken from her or made her small. Kaoru was alive, and their time together – that single, blessed week when he had felt himself a man again, had felt _clean_ again – that had not been an illusion. He had not spun that fairy tale whole-cloth from his own yearnings, had not wounded her beyond bearing in his selfish delusions.

Kaoru was alive and he could find her. Would find her. Find her and bring her _home_ , home and safe again. He would make this right. He _could_ make this right. He was not – not yet! – past all hope of salvation.

"From the very deepest part of my heart," he said again, "I am most grateful."

Aoshi looked at him for a heartbeat more, his cool green eyes unreadable behind ink-dark hair. Then he nodded, once.

"Your gratitude is appreciated," he said, a softness like a snowdrift easing the tension in his face, "but unnecessary. It will be enough if we return the lady safely home."

"On that matter, we are in agreement." Kenshin straightened, closing his eyes as he was made briefly light-headed by the sudden movement. "Now, how do we do so?"

Aoshi seemed about to answer; then the door opened and Lord Tokugawa stepped in, closing the door behind him to cut off someone's indignant cry. His arrival made the shed even more crowded. Sano edged irritably away, unwilling to share space with him. The shōgun's eyes feel immediately on the false corpse, and his face darkened.

"So it is true." He crossed his arms, mouth set in a thin, tight line. Then he glanced at Aoshi. "And who is this?"

Aoshi met his gaze flatly. "This lowly one is but a humble servant of Lord Himura," he lied with enviable fluency. "My family has served the rulers of Hito for generations, and it has traditionally been our duty to see to the security of that noble family." Then he bowed, courtly and obedient.

"I see." Lord Tokugawa raised an eyebrow. "It is a pity that you did not intervene sooner."

Aoshi held his bow, seeming not to notice the reprimand. Kenshin braced himself on the edge of the table, suddenly exhausted. Some fascinating undercurrent was thrumming between Aoshi and his sovereign, and he would probably regret not paying attention to it later, but –

"It is enough that he _did_ come in time, my lord," Kenshin said, putting warning in his tone. He was too tired to truly care about why and how, though at some point he would have to – Lord Tokugawa had that hunting-look in his eye again, the one that meant he intended to pursue his prey until one of them dropped dead from exhaustion. At some point, Kenshin would have to ask who Aoshi truly was, and why he hadn't heard of him before, if only to have a believable lie for his sovereign when the shōgun demanded an explanation.

 _And what joyous occasions those will be_ , he thought sourly, before he put it from his mind. It didn't matter.

"My honored wife yet lives." It nearly stilled Kenshin's breath to say the words. "That being said, Sir Aoshi, do you know where she might be? And who it is that holds her captive?"

Aoshi straightened, his eyes meeting Kenshin's and sliding briefly over to Lord Tokugawa's, as if asking permission. Kenshin gave it unthinkingly, and wondered – for half a second, before exhaustion demanded that he stop – why Aoshi had asked.

"I do." He shifted, standing to address them all: Kenshin, Sano, and the shōgun. "Lady Kaoru's kidnapping was arranged by a conspiracy to overthrow Lord Tokugawa. It was done with the intent of destabilizing Lord Himura to the point where he could no longer serve as an asset to the current regime."

Lord Tokugawa grunted, displeasure evident in his features. It was the closest he would ever come to expressing rage. Sano nearly snarled, though Kenshin knew he had heard it all before.

"Of course, this was only the preliminary step in a much larger plan," Aoshi continued. "Although the conspiracy involves several lords, it is headed by an individual who is nothing if not patient. This is the same man whom I believe insisted that Lady Kaoru be spared: the individual called Whitehair. I am unable to fully confirm his identity, as he is quite secretive, and I have no agents within the conspiracy's inner circle at this time. However – "

He paused.

"You are certain, nonetheless." Lord Tokugawa said. "Beyond a reasonable doubt, I presume?"

"With the discovery that this is indeed a false corpse – that the Lady Kaoru must still live…" Aoshi's eyes darkened. "…yes. I am as certain as I may be without direct confirmation."

"Then who the fuck is he?" Sano snapped, his hand leaving Kenshin's shoulder as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Gimme the bastard's _name_."

Aoshi hesitated again. His eyes flicked over to Kenshin, almost too fast to notice, and Kenshin dug his fingers into the table's surface.

"Who is it, Sir Aoshi?"

"…Sir Enishi Yukishiro."

Sano swore. The shōgun's face grew very still. And a wave of nausea overtook Kenshin, bile surging up his tightened throat as his fingers scraped against the hard wooden table.

"Of course," he whispered, unaware that he was speaking out loud. "Of course."

Enishi – _her_ younger brother. _Tomoe's_ younger brother – and even thinking her name was like striking a bruise, but he would think it, yes, and remember – the little boy who'd come to see her all fury and dragonfly-spite, who'd glared at him as if he were a monster. The last time he'd seen the boy had been at the trial, his hair bleached white with grief and his eyes black and hot as dying coals. He'd thought _I should go to him_ – and then _but what could I possibly say?_ What apology could ever be enough, could ever make him clean in that child's eyes?

So many had died because of him; her blood was just one stain, and the only one that could never be allowed to fade.

"I see," the shōgun said, after some time. "That… would explain a great deal."

"Yeah, like how the fucker knew what'd break him." Sano growled, fists clenching. "Sonuva _bitch_ – !"

"You believe that he kept the Lady Kaoru alive for the sake of her claim on Hito?" The shōgun interrupted Sano before he could go on a tear, for which Kenshin was dimly grateful.

"Yes. That, and – " Aoshi hesitated again. "Vengeance motivates him; vengeance against Lord Himura for his sister, and against the Tokugawa regime for his clan. He bears no grudge against the Kamiya. Lady Kaoru is a young woman from a clan conquered by the Tokugawa, sold as a war-bride to the man Yukishiro hates above all others, the man who took his sister from him. He would find the parallels – compelling. And reason enough, it seems, to spare her life."

"Indeed." Lord Tokugawa nodded. "In that case – "

"Where did he take her?" Kenshin said the words before he knew he'd spoken, carried on a tide of rage and grief that tangled in each other until he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. The false corpse seemed to smile, mocking him. "Where is my _wife?_ "

"A castle outside Shinano province," Aoshi said. "A day's hard ride from here."

Kenshin pushed himself away from the table, turning away from the doll's small, subtle smile. "Then that is where I will go," he said. "Sano – "

"Not yet." Aoshi moved to stand between Kenshin and the door. Kenshin glared up at him, his hand going to rest on his sword-hilt and finding nothing. He had taken his blade from his belt and lain it beside him for the sake of the ritual – so that the hilt wouldn't get in his way when he slit open his stomach in penance.

"My sword," he muttered to himself. "I'll need my sword – "

"Among other things." Aoshi held his ground. "Lord Himura. Think. If Yukishiro knows that you have discovered the deception, he will move her, and I do not know where he might take her. It is imperative that he believe his plan has succeeded and that you are _dead_."

"Indeed." Lord Tokugawa nodded. "It is well that young Sanosuke here – " Sano snorted, starting to say something, and the shōgun talked right over him. " – had to carry you to the palanquin. It will be easy to claim that he carried your body to the temple to await cremation."

Kenshin started to argue and the shōgun raised his hand.

"No, Himura. I want this man caught and his conspiracy broken. Neither this nor the rescue of your wife can be accomplished if he knows that we have uncovered his foul acts and leaves his current stronghold for another. Your wife is captive but unharmed, and likely to stay that way. A day or so of delay to rest and plan is both possible and warranted, and you would be a fool not to take it."

Kenshin licked his lips, not wanting Lord Tokugawa to make as much sense as he did.

"A day," the shōgun said. "A day and no more. I cannot stop you, if this is your will – but I ask a day, as I did before. One day."

His eyes bore into Kenshin's.

"As we have recently seen – there is much that can be accomplished in a day."

~*~

Kaoru woke slowly, battling a heavy lethargy that threatened to drag her down into the warm, enveloping dark. It was not a comforting darkness; it felt as though she was swathed in heavy silk, swaddled like a child or a corpse in layers of cloth that constricted and smothered. She tried to fight but her limbs would not respond, and her frantic heart beat rabbit-quick in her crushed chest until she shot, gasping, from her nightmare.

For a long moment she lay with her eyes open and unseeing, drawing in breath after breath to convince herself that she still lived. The air was strangely stale, tinged with the acrid reek of herbal sachets to keep away vermin and she wondered why. No infestation would dare come within spitting distance of Tae.

Tae…

They had been sewing together, Kaoru embroidering Kenshin's gift and Tae cutting out new kimonos for the girls. Shirojo had come in to keep them company… it had gotten dark, and Tae had fetched lanterns. Kaoru was determined to stay awake until Kenshin came home. To greet him, as a wife should, because she _was_ his wife and not unhappy to be so. And it was important that he know that. She'd wanted him to know.

But the smoke of the lantern had been sweet and gentle, and her eyelids had grown heavier and heavier, her fingers clumsy with sleep, until finally she thought _oh well, he won't mind_ and surrendered…

Kaoru sat up, suddenly certain that something was wrong, and realized that she was not in her room. Not in her room and not in her _house_ – because there was no note from Kenshin explaining why he wasn't there, no lively sounds, no scent of cooking or shrieks of laughter from right outside where her sisters should be playing, no gentle drone as they recited their lesson just next door. This room – this place – was silent, and reeked of preservative herbs.

She looked around her, blood pounding in her veins. It was a small, internal room, with no windows or outside door. Well-appointed, but none of the furnishings were hers. A screen painted with cranes stood between the door and her futon.

Kaoru threw back the blanket, suddenly afraid, and saw that she was still wearing the same clothes she'd had on yesterday. So she hadn't been stripped, which meant that maybe…

Her hand ducked inside her belt. Nothing. Her dagger was gone, and her weighted war-fan. She was weaponless.

 _No_ , she forced herself to think over the thrill of panic. There was always a weapon, if you looked.

Silently, balancing on the balls of her feet, she rose from the futon and cast out her senses. There was someone standing in the hall outside her door – just one person, and no one else nearby. Okay. One guard. She could handle one guard. And he'd have a sword, which would help her handle more guards…

And there was a kimono stand in one corner of the room. She allowed herself a single, feral grin as she padded over and lifted the top bar from its perch. It was a little bit shorter than a proper stave, and a little too long to be a baton, but it would do.

The stand clattered a bit. The guard outside shifted, hearing the noise, and began to open the door. Kaoru slid into position, gripping her makeshift staff with the tip pointed at the ground. Any moment…

The guard peered through a crack in the door and she struck as his eyes widened, before he even had time to shout. A true strike, hard between his eyes; there was a palpable _crack_ of wood-on-bone and he fell backwards, twitched once, and then lay still. She wondered briefly if she had killed him and wanted to be horrified, except that there was no time.

No one interrupted her as she slid through the open door and searched the guard, taking both his swords and the small purse he'd had tucked in his belt. It jangled softly, full of coin, and would come in handy once she'd gotten out of this place and had to make her way towards Edo. Then, frowning, she wondered what to do with him. There was no real point in hiding him; anyone who came by would be as alerted by his absence as by his unconscious body. Could she afford the time it would take to strip him and don his outfit? It would make a good disguise, but she didn't know how long she had before someone came to check on her or relieve her guard…

She made up her mind and dragged the guard into the room. It didn't take long to strip him and pull on his uniform. With her hair tied back and tucked under itself, she could pass as long as she didn't let anyone get too close. The guard she left lying in his underwear as she slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her and locking it from the outside, just in case he woke up before anyone came by.

The halls that she padded softly down were surprisingly empty for a castle of this one's apparent size. There should have been servants and messengers darting to and fro, retainers striding from one duty to another, warriors pacing the halls with swords at ready – but instead of the bustle of everyday life there was only a drafty silence and the faint echo of movement deep within. It leant the place a haunted air, and made Kaoru uneasy. True, it would be easier to sense someone coming, but it also meant that there was no crowd to vanish into.

The sense of wrongness permeated the air, a terrible weight that pressed down on her and set her heart racing. The sharp scent of preservative herbs followed her as she walked as confidently as she could, searching for the exit. Preservatives – the whole _place_ felt preserved, like a fly in amber, suspended in the moment before the wave breaks. The lack of furnishings only bore her feelings out: no one had lived in _this_ place for a long, long time.

She shuddered, and kept searching.

Her room had been in the very deepest part of the castle, in what had probably been the family rooms. They were protected by a labyrinth of dead-end halls and nightingale floors; no one could reach them without giving the alarm unless they already knew the way. Kaoru froze in fear the first time the floor sang out beneath her, but no one answered its call. After a few moments, she relaxed slightly. Her captor wasn't very _good_ at this… and that in and of itself disturbed her. There were rules to this game. She'd known them since she was a child. And whoever had kidnapped her wasn't playing by those rules.

That was probably not a good thing.

Kaoru wasn't spotted until she found a way outside. There were guards posted at the entrances and exits, and she'd thought there was only one at the door she'd found but there was a second a little farther off who shouted in alarm when she smacked the butt of her hilt into the first guard's temple. She ran and he gave chase, shouting for reinforcements.

It wasn't a particularly glamorous flight. Whatever had been used to render her unconscious had also left her eyes dilated and sensitive. The bright sunlight made them water, turning the world into a blur of color and movement. She stumbled through the ornamental gardens as best she could, barely keeping ahead of her pursuers, and eventually burst through to what she guessed was the front courtyard. It was certainly broad enough – and _busy_ enough.

She didn't even have time to curse before the men drew their swords and came at her. Kaoru dodged to one side, hoping that her pursuers wouldn't be able to stop in time. Only a few fell for the trick, bowling into the men racing towards her from the center of the courtyard and sending a handful of them scattering like startled geese. The rest quickly reoriented and came after her.

Blinking away tears – her eyes were adjusting, slowly, _too_ damn slowly – Kaoru grabbed blindly at the outline of what looked to be a handcart of some sort and shoved it in the general direction of the mob behind her. Then she ran towards the horses gathered on the other side of the yard – or at any rate, she hoped they were horses. By the shouts left in her wake, she guessed that the cart had taken out at least one more. Not enough.

She drew her sword as they overtook her.

Her father had trained her to fight multiple opponents, but not strenuously; it was hard enough to find men willing to spar with a young girl that she rarely had enough partners. And she was not to be a soldier, so when would she ever need to fight against more than one or two assailants? Her skills were for defending self and home and family, not the battlefield.

There were half a dozen men, maybe more; Kaoru hacked and kicked, ducking under strikes rather than trying to parry. Her sole advantage lay in that there _were_ so many: she was only one small person, and half the time they hit each other rather than her. Nonetheless, they were all larger than her and did a good job of keeping her fenced in. Eventually, she would fall.

One of them grabbed at her and just barely missed, catching the edge of her hair and yanking it from its sloppy disguise. Her long tresses spilled free, undone. She spun on the ball of her foot, tossing her head back to keep it from her eyes.

"What the – ?"

"It's the lady! Stop! Stop, you idiots, if you want to keep your heads!"

And suddenly she was standing in the calm center of a widening circle as the men backed slowly away, swords threatening but no longer attacking. They stayed close enough to keep her in, and far enough that she couldn't lunge for freedom without giving herself away.

Kaoru re-adjusted her grip, breathing hard. A stinging pain made itself known in her upper arm: someone had cut her in the melee. She risked a glance down and saw red blood staining her stolen sleeve, spreading through the fibers.

"My lady."

She looked up. A man stood at the edge of the circle, dressed in the same uniform as her captors. His hair was bright, pure white. Not the stiff yellowed ivory of old age, but a color as natural as if he had been born that way – though he couldn't have been. But it couldn't be age, either; he didn't seem much older than she was.

He bowed to her.

"Please forgive my men. I apologize for having no one there to explain the situation when you woke."

"Who are you?" she demanded, holding tight to her sword. The men shifted uneasily around them. "Why have you kidnapped me? My husband _will_ come for me – "

"No, my lady, he will _not_ – " The man straightened and took a few steps towards her. She bristled.

" _Stay back!_ "

"Please, my lady, there's no need to fear me." She could see his eyes now: bright blue, blue as the sky above and shimmering with fierce intensity. The air around him crackled like the sky before a storm, dizzying and ripe with ozone. Her breath caught in her throat. "Your husband will not come for you. He will not take you back. Never again. I swear it."

"…what…?" She sucked in a breath. "What do you – mean…?"

"I am sorry that I could not tell you earlier, my lady. You have passed so many lonely months, believing yourself abandoned to that demon." He smiled, then, almost gently. "But all that is over now, my lady. You are safe, and soon you will be free of the demon forever."

"I… I don't understand…"

 _White hair_. Something in the back of her mind pushed against her confusion, insisting that she remember. _He has white hair._

"Who are you?"

"My name is Enishi Yukishiro," he said, going down on one knee. Kaoru kept her sword on him, her stomach twisting into knots. "And I mean you no harm, Lady Kamiya. I swear it."

 _Lady Kamiya_ – not Himura.

For a moment, she thought about running. But there were too many men, and her eyes still stung in the bright midday light; she'd never make it. And her captor – his eyes were sincere, if feverish. He meant what he was saying, _believed_ what he was saying.

But if he had stolen her from her husband than he was Kenshin's enemy, and therefore _hers_ …

Her sword-hand twitched.

 _Live, honored_ wife, Kenshin whispered from her memories. _Whatever happens, whatever becomes necessary – so long as you are alive, I will find you. I will come for you. I swear it._

 _I will always, always come for you_.

This man had kidnapped her. But he wasn't lying – for whatever reason, he didn't mean to harm her, not right now anyway. There were too many men for her make a successful escape – and more than enough to kill her if she struck him down. He had said that Kenshin wouldn't come for her, but he thought her husband was a demon, an uncaring monster, and she knew otherwise. There was no force on earth that could keep Kenshin from her.

 _Live_.

She lowered her sword.

~*~

They smuggled Kenshin out of the temple the same way he'd come in, Lord Tokugawa staying behind to set the rumor mill in motion. Kenshin didn't particularly _like_ the plan, but that didn't mean it wasn't a sound one. There was no reason to believe that Kaoru's kidnapper – that _Enishi_ wouldn't keep her alive, after all the trouble he'd gone to in order to fake her death. A day of planning could save weeks of searching.

Enishi. Enishi had done this. Enishi had only been a boy the last time Kenshin had seen him, and he'd stayed a boy in Kenshin's memory, but it had been ten years since then. Enishi would be a man now.

Ten years.

Kenshin closed his eyes, not wanting to remember. Her sad, subtle smile, before he'd left – he hadn't realized, until afterward, what it had meant. That she had already chosen.

"You will live?" She'd asked him so casually. "You won't come to regret this, later? You'll live on, no matter what?"

"Of course." He'd answered so fervently, so easily, barely registering the strangeness of the question – why would she ask that, when he'd already chosen? Chosen _her_ , over honor, over oaths, over every other allegiance.

"You must promise me, honored husband." she'd insisted, her hands playing with the edge of her shawl. "Say the words. Say that you will live on, regardless of what happens. Promise me."

"I promise." He'd taken her hand in his – small and cool and white in his calloused grip, soft and stronger than his had ever been. "I promise, Tomoe."

His heart caught jagged on the memory, and he bit hard on his knuckle in the darkness of the palanquin to curb the heat building behind his eyes. There wasn't _time_ for that. Afterwards, maybe – no, inevitably. He'd have to explain, to apologize to Kaoru and to the girls for all this horror. He owed them that much, and even more, only he had no way to give it.

The girls. He'd abandoned them, too. Which was why he was going to Lady Takani's home, and not his own; that, and the fact that it would make it easier to pretend that he was still dead if he stayed away from public view. He had to apologize to them, apologize and explain – to them and to Lady Takani and her son. They all had the right to know, and on that matter he would not compromise.

The first thing that Lady Takani did when Kenshin climbed unsteadily from the palanquin was slap him. She wavered in shock, afterwards, anguish shattering behind her eyes, and they stood in tense silence in her small courtyard. Her eyes shone wetly in the mid-morning light.

He touched his cheek lightly. It had been a loud slap rather than a hard one, and the sting was already fading. Finally, she spoke.

"How _dare_ you." Her voice cracked and flaked, like old paint. "How _dare_ you abandon those children?"

Kenshin swallowed, lowering his hand.

"Forgive me."

"Don't say it to _me_ ," she sniffed. "Say it to _them_ – you _inconsiderate_ – " She gasped, then, unable to finish the sentence. Her fingers clenched in her robe as she ducked her head, drawing in air like a woman rescued from drowning.

Kenshin couldn't think of anything to say. After a time, she met his eyes again.

"Come with me," she said brusquely. "We need to get you out of those clothes. I think I'll have them burned." She turned smartly on the ball of her foot and marched off.

Lady Takani led him to a small room off the entrance hallway, where a tray of men's clothing already sat waiting. He bowed and thanked her. She paused for a moment before she left.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice low. "For – I shouldn't have slapped you. I only… it's not that I don't understand _why_." She didn't meet his eyes as she spoke. "It's only – it's just that – "

"It's all right." He managed a small smile. "One quite understands."

Lady Takani had loved him, once, in an innocent way; loved him because he had been kind to her when there had been very little kindness in her life. Perhaps she still loved him, in her own way.

He had been abandoning her, too.

"Truly," he added.

"…if you say so." Her fingers curled around the doorframe. "Call out when you've changed, and I'll take you to the girls."

"Thank you, Megumi." He bowed to her. She started when he said her name, her eyes widening as if she had been struck. Then she smiled: a small, mocking smile, aimed at herself rather than him.

"There's nothing to thank me for," she said, and left.

~*~

Katsuo was sitting outside girls' room, his arms crossed and a scowl carved deep in his aquiline features. He got to his feet when he saw Kenshin coming, his eyebrows snapping down over his bright black eyes.

"What do you want?"

Kenshin met his anger with a smile, soft and sad. "One has come to see Ayame and Suzume, that I have."

"Well, maybe they don't want to see you." There was a waver in Katsuo's voice, and Kenshin understood his anger for the fear it truly was: fear of losing the man he admired, of his mother's pain, of the grief of the girls he'd befriended.

"Perhaps you might ask?" Kenshin suggested.

Katsuo's scowl twisted, pulling his mouth to the floor. "Fine."

He went inside, and came out again a moment later. "All right. Go in, then."

Kenshin stepped over the threshold with a certain amount of trepidation. He'd abandoned the girls, however briefly; had intended to abandon them forever, certain that Kaoru would never have wanted him to care for them anyway. Not after he had misused her so; not after he had lain with her against her will and called it love. He'd hadn't even been willing to let her leave his side long enough for her to comfort her sisters after a nightmare. Instead he'd insisted that they stay, sleeping in the same bed where he had shamed her…

Except that wasn't true. He hadn't hurt her. He had been wrong.

He'd never been so glad to be wrong.

Suzume threw herself at him with a wail as soon as he stepped through the door. He crouched and gathered her in his arms reflexively as she clung to him, sobbing, and made soothing noises until she calmed. Her small head came to rest, sniffling, on his shoulder, and her little hands twisted in his clothes as her full weight sank against him.

"There now," he said, patting her head. "There. Forgive me…"

"What happened?"

Kenshin raised his head to see Ayame kneeling nearby, her young face strained with the effort of serenity. Her clenched fists rested on her thighs, and she was very deliberately not crying.

"Where were you? What happened to – " Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard and recovered. "What happened to our sister?"

"Your sister…" He exhaled hard, and couldn't find another way to say it. "Your sister is alive."

The words came out too easily for what they were. He thought that the world should still with them, but it kept turning. The deer-scarer in the small courtyard tipped over, spilling and settling back against the rock with a hollow _thock_.

Ayame paled. The tears she'd kept so carefully hidden began to squeeze from the corners of her eyes. "But – but we saw – "

"It was a trick," Kenshin said, as gently as he could. "A doll made to look like her. A cruel trick, done to hurt – to hurt me. Forgive me, Ayame." He bowed his head, unable to do more with Suzume in his arms and refusing to let go. "One should have realized from the beginning, that I should have."

"But – how did you…" Ayame blinked, and the tears trickled silently down her cheeks. "How did you – ?"

"A man named Aoshi." It did not even occur to Kenshin to lie. "He said that he was a friend of your sisters. He knew, somehow – he found out…"

"Lord Aoshi?" Ayame's small hand came up to cover her bloodless lips. "Then – then it must be true. She's alive." Her breath caught on the exhale. "Big sister's alive…"

"Yes." He savored the word. "One will be going soon, to bring the lady home again, that I will."

"How soon?" Ayame's eyes were clear, for all her cheeks were still tear-stained.

"Tomorrow morning." He shifted uncomfortably. "Some time is needed, it seems, to prepare the necessary force…"

"Fine." Her small face was bright with passion. "But you have to bring her back. You _have_ to! Or I – " She bit at her lower lip, so like her older sister that it made his heart ache. "Or I won't forgive you," she finished quietly. "Not ever. I didn't let Suzume know, but… but I know. I made Lady Takani tell me, when she didn't want to, because she and Sir Sano seemed so scared. I know that you almost… that you almost left us, too."

Suzume didn't stir. In fact, he guessed by her warm weight and steady breathing that she had dozed off, wrung out by all that had happened in the past day. Ayame met his gaze fiercely, her eyes as bright and relentless as her elder sister's.

"I won't _ever_ forgive you for that," she said, passion straining her calm tone. "Never _ever!_ Not unless you bring my sister back."

"Ayame…"

He wanted to explain, but there were no words. What did it matter to her how he had felt, what he had believed? All she knew was that she had been left utterly alone in the time when she most needed someone with her.

"I will," he promised her, and hoped he wasn't lying. "One swears – I swear – by my swords. I will bring her back to you."

" _Good_." Ayame's throat worked. "Because I mean what I say. I won't forgive you if you don't."

She lifted her chin as she said it, and in the proud angle of her jaw he saw the woman she would become.

"I swear it," he said again, softly. "I swear."

~*~

Kaoru knelt before the vanity in the small room she'd wakened in, examining herself in its round mirror. Her captor – host – whoever he was – had escorted her back, apologizing endlessly for her rough treatment and the lack of 'feminine amenities,' whatever the hell that meant. He'd had the still-unconscious guard taken away, calling for a medicine box for the cut in her arm and would have treated it himself, except that she'd protested.

"I can see to it well enough, sir – "

He'd looked about to override her; then his jaw had snapped shut, and his fever-bright eyes had softened.

"Of course." He'd pressed the kit into her hands. "Forgive me."

His fingers had curled along the edge of her skin, dry and somehow sticky, dragging against the back of her hand. She'd barely repressed a shudder.

"You will want a bath as well," he'd said, turning away. "I'll have one prepared. You'll find a robe in the dresser, there – please, consider this your room, and everything in it at your disposal. We have no maids as yet, only my men, but they have been ordered to see to your needs."

"Thank you, sir," she'd murmured politely, holding the medicine box like a talisman. "You are very kind."

His eyes had raked over her in a way that left her feeling _bare_ , like he'd torn the cloth from her body and the skin from her bones.

"I will see you again at dinner, my lady, and then I will explain further," he'd said with a bow. "Until then."

"Until then, sir." She'd returned his bow as politely as she could, and held it until she heard the door slide shut.

The promised bath had been a quick, perfunctory thing, more a rinse than anything else. The steam rising from the cedar tub had been invitingly warm, but she hadn't dared linger in it – not with her captor's motivations still unproven, and the guard he'd sent to escort her waiting outside the bathhouse door. So she'd only sluiced herself down and patted herself dry as quickly as she could, getting off the worst of the sweat and grime from her abortive escape.

When she returned to the room, she found that her kimono was gone; in its place, laid out on the re-assembled stand, was an entirely new one. It was pure white, with a deep blue belt and red under-scarf. Her clothes had been taken to be washed, her guard had informed her, and shut her in before she could ask any more questions.

Finding no other clothes available, she'd dressed in what had been laid out for her. Then she'd examined the room, looking for – something, she didn't know what, and finding nothing very useful. The vanity's surface held a mirror, some cosmetics, and a small collection of hair ornaments. There was a sewing kit tucked behind the dresser, and a few books piled in the alcove next to an empty vase. Other than that, nothing.

For lack of anything better to do, she'd settled before the vanity and dealt with her hair. Bullying her tangled locks into some semblance of order took the better part of half an hour, and she was grateful that her ribbon, at least, had stayed with her – the blue one, her favorite, because of the way it brought out her eyes. The only ribbons in the vanity were thin and white, and hardly suited her.

She tilted her head, wondering at her reflection. White really wasn't her color; the snowy fabric of the kimono washed out her skin and turned her blue eyes otherworldly. It was frankly creepy. The whole get-up made her look like some kind of snow-maiden ready to lure travelers into her icy, eternal embrace.

Not to mention that the sleeves were far too long. This was a maiden's kimono, not a married woman's, and that made her stomach knot uneasily.

There was a soft knock at her door.

"Lady? May this lowly self enter?"

It wasn't her captor's voice. She pressed a hand to her fast-beating heart, wishing that she'd found _something_ to use as a weapon. But the needles in the sewing kit were too small and fragile, and none of the hairpins were sharp enough…

"Please, come in," she said, as steadily as she could. The door slid open. Her kneeling guard bowed to her.

"My master begs you to join him for dinner, lady."

"I would be honored." As if she had any choice.

The setting sun slanted through the castle, glowing golden on the dusty woodwork. It only added to the castle's haunted air. Sir Yukishiro and his men had cleaned the place just enough to make it habitable.

Her guard led her to a room that opened out onto a small garden arrayed with stunted, twisted pine trees, groomed through long years into fantastic shapes. They seemed vaguely sinister in the dimming light, their gnarled limbs growing shadowy and grasping as the sunlight faded. They jutted up from the raked gravel bed like brooding sentinels, jagged rocks leaning against their roots.

Two trays stood in the center of the room, laden with food. Sir Yukishiro was standing on the veranda, looking out over the silent garden. He turned when she entered, inclining his head politely.

"Lady Kamiya. You look lovely." His eyes scoured her again with that same stripping quality, like a butcher deciding how to approach a particularly troublesome cut of meat. "But your hair…"

He covered the ground between them in a few swift steps, and before she could react his fingers were in her hair, undoing her simple mare's tail. She jerked away; his hands tightened, yanking her hair by the roots. Kaoru cried out, more startled than in pain.

"Sir!"

"Don't worry." His tight grip left her no choice but to stand still under him, unless she wanted to tear out a chunk of her hair as well. So she tightened her jaw and endured it as he fiddled with her tresses, pulling her hair down to rest at the nape of her neck and looping it up, binding the end to the beginning with her blue ribbon.

"There," he said finally, with catlike satisfaction. "That's better."

He moved away, settling down behind one of the two trays. She could still feel his fingers crawling on her scalp, tingling like spider's footsteps.

"Please, sit." He gestured to the tray across from him. "You must be hungry."

Kaoru would have been, under other circumstances, but her gut was knotted too tight for it to register. She knelt anyway, waiting for him to begin, as was polite. He folded his hands briefly.

"Let's eat."

She echoed him softly, disliking the displaced weight of her hair – she never wore it so low – but afraid to touch it. He watched her as they ate, his eyes glittering as the daylight faded. Eventually, someone came out to light the stone lanterns. Sir Yukishiro sighed when he was done, setting his chopsticks down. Kaoru followed, her own meal only half-eaten.

"That was excellent," he said. "Now, then. I suppose you have questions. I will answer those that I can."

He spoke with a magnanimous air. Kaoru folded her hands in her lap, swallowing bile.

"Who are you, exactly?" she said. "And what quarrel do you have with my husband? And what did you mean, saying that my husband won't come for me?"

Sir Yukishiro laughed, soft and indulgent, like a man playing with a curious child.

"So my name means nothing to you? Well, that's to be expected. I am Enishi Yukishiro – his first wife's brother."

Kaoru couldn't stifle her gasp. He looked over at her, smiling his odd smile. His eyes shone in the shadows, bright as a cat's in the underbrush.

"Please don't fear me, lady. I would not harm _you_ for all the world; my vengeance is only for the demon who killed my sister. And for your sake, too – I couldn't save her, you see." He spoke very calmly, and his eyes refused to leave her. She felt pierced by them, fixed to the floor. "But I can save you. And I have."

"Sir – "

"Himura won't come for you because he thinks that you're dead," Enishi continued, seeming not to hear her. "Even now, my allies are pressuring Tokugawa to sever the relationship – two dead wives is a bit much, don't you think? Especially given that the second marriage was of such political importance…" His strange, crooked smile deepened, and he looked proud as a little boy.

"Sir, I – " Kaoru's mind raced, trying to think of something to say. "I – I didn't know that my lord's first wife had a brother."

An inanity. And the wrong thing to say: suddenly Sir Yukishiro was next to her, nearly glaring at her, his hands hovering as though he had been about to reach out and shake her.

"He's not your lord," Enishi snapped. "Not anymore. I've _saved_ you. Don't you understand?"

His eyes gleamed in the low lantern-light, feverish and unseeing, focused on something far away and deep inside him. His voice changed, turning dreamy and strange.

"Everything's going to be all right now, sister," he said quietly, and brushed back a strand of her hair. His fingers were clammy, and shook to touch her. "You'll see. Everything will be the way it was supposed to be."

"Sir – Sir Yukishiro…"

His bright blue eyes focused, seeing her again.

"How?" Kaoru twisted her fingers in the folds of her dress, throat dry and aching. "That is – what do you mean, to say that he thinks I'm dead?"

He smiled at her. "That isn't the sort of thing a young woman should have to hear," he told her, leaning in too close. "All you need to know is that he will never, ever come looking for you. And even if he does, somehow, I won't let him have you. You're finally safe."

His mouth curved proudly under his madman's eyes.

"He'll never have you again, dear sister," Enishi said, and kissed her on the cheek.


	14. this hard and precious stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a TRIGGER WARNING for physical abuse and abuse apologism. Beware Enishi's scenes.

There was no moon to light the way as Kaoru crept silently from the outhouse to the stables. Her escort – her _guard_ – was still waiting uneasily outside for her to finish with her feminine business. He didn't know that she'd crawled out through the high, ventilating window and dropped to the ground without more than a brief scruff to betray her presence. Maybe she hadn't been born and bred to the shadow arts, but you didn't grow up best friends with a daughter of the Makimachi family without learning a few tricks.

Yukishiro's horses were tied nearby, in a ramshackle open pen. No stables; or if there were, they were too disreputable for Yukishiro's men to have bothered trying to make habitable. Another indication that this castle was only a temporary residence. They couldn't have moved her very far in the time she was unconscious; she had to still be close to Edo. Which made escape practical, and even necessary. If they were planning to move her, then she had to get out before they hauled her wherever they were finally going, somewhere where she didn't know the local customs, where she couldn't make contact with Misao because her friend's clan had no presence there.

And she couldn't afford to waste time. Not after what Yukishiro had told her. Not when Kenshin and her sisters believed that she –

She couldn't think about that now. It didn't matter. Yukishiro was insane, and she'd promised Kenshin that she'd live, that she'd trust him to find her, but he didn't know that she was alive to be found. So she was on her own.

Yukishiro's voice slithered through her memory, hot with madness: _he'll never have you again, dear sister._

"I'm _not_ your sister," she muttered as she untied the nearest horse with shaking fingers. "You twisted little – "

He hadn't let her leave after that, but nothing that she'd done had coaxed any more information out of him. Instead he'd insisted that they play a friendly game of shogi to while away the evening, and flattened his lips like a child on the verge of a tantrum when she tried to refuse. The hand that he'd rested on the crook of her elbow had born down, almost bruising, as he'd informed her tightly that this was really a very _small_ favor to do her rescuer.

Alone and unarmed, surrounded by enemies, she'd given in and played with only half her mind on the game while the rest plotted her escape. She'd lost, and he'd been a bit too pleased by that.

After the game, she'd been escorted back to her room and left there with a guard. She'd spent the time catnapping and using what she could of the sewing kit to make hoof-wraps, the better to silence the sound of steps of the horse she intended to steal.

Now, she grabbed her chosen horse by its lead and led it towards the gate. Its wrapped hooves tapped softly against the ground. That, at least, had gone well.

The best time for this sort of thing was between the hours of the ox and the tiger, in the deepest part of night when people were least on their guard. And sure enough, the samurai set to watch the main gate were slumping slightly at their posts, facing towards the road without bothering to scan the courtyard.

Her heart raced as she crept closer, the horse following obediently behind. If even _one_ of them remembered their job and turned to look…

But neither of them did. She lifted the great bar that held the gate closed as silently as she could and set it aside, then yanked her kimono up a little further and mounted the horse. It would be hard, keeping control with no saddle and nothing but a lead – but she didn't have a choice. She'd never make it on foot.

The horse huffed slightly, bewildered by this turn of events. She stroked its neck soothingly and reached out to push open the gates. The guards stirred as they creaked outwards, revealing the long dark road ahead. It was faintly lit by starlight and the sliver of the crescent moon, just enough to set it glowing in the night.

"Hey, what the – ?"

Kaoru dug her heels into the horse's side. It snorted, startled by her ferocity, and began to run. The guards shouted after her, sending up the alarm, but by the time the garrison mustered into action behind her she was through the gate and _free_ , with nothing but the wind roaring in her ears.

~*~

The moment didn't last. Kaoru was just cresting the first hill past the abandoned palace when she heard the shouts and pounding hoofbeats of her pursuers. Her horse responded eagerly to her spur, the fragile hoof-wrappings shredding under their furious gait. It wouldn't last forever, though. She couldn't be certain of winning a race, and she had no idea where she was – she could keep running, but she had nowhere to run _too_. It was time to get off the road and put as much difficult ground between them and her as she could.

Her mount responded eagerly to her guidance, lost in the wild rapture of speed. It fairly flew over the abandoned fields – there had been a village here, once – seeming almost to _gain_ in swiftness as it tore along what had once been the raised paths between rice paddies, jumping over low stone walls without breaking stride. It was a wild, silent ride, no sound but the wind in her ears and the horse's eager panting as they moved together, eating up the ground before them.

The sound of her pursuers had faded into a distant din when she reached a thin, shallow stream and forced the horse into it, making it walk upstream to disguise their path. It whickered in protest but obeyed, picking its way gingerly across the rocky bed. The noise of the running water made it hard for her to hear, but hopefully that worked both ways; she just needed to keep her eyes peeled for her pursuers.

Something moved in the underbrush.

_Wait, was that – ?_

A horse and rider burst out from a thicket of trees by the riverbank. Kaoru slammed her heels into her mount. It reared, blowing air; she flung her arms around its neck and hung on for dear life as it danced unsteadily on its back legs, searching for purchase on the slick, rocky ground.

A bowstring sang. Something dark and deadly flew past her face, lodging in the horse's neck. An arrow, still quivering with the force of its flight, slender and bristling with menace. The horse screamed, alien and agonized, and began to fall. Kaoru leapt away, aiming for the soft soil of the streambank and twisting in the air to break her fall. She hit the ground hard, hard enough to blur her eyesight with tears and dizzying stars; still she hauled herself to her feet and began to run, stumbling –

Something slammed into the back of her head, and she knew no more.

~*~

Kaoru came to consciousness slowly, jostled back-and-forth by the movement of the horse she'd been thrown over. Her hands were bound behind her back; she pulled futilely at the ropes, hoping against hope that there was some give in them. No luck. Her fingers tingled, her blood straining the circulate despite her bonds.

Her head ached. There was a knotted throbbing at the back of her head, and her stomach lurched with every step the horse took.

She spent interminable, timeless moments suspended in pain and nausea, her dizziness overwhelming her until she couldn't spare the energy to take in her surroundings. It was hard enough not to vomit or pass out again, the way her brains kept sloshing in her skull.

Eventually the horse's movement stopped. Someone lifted her off its back and set her on her feet, shoving between her shoulderblades. She took a stumbling step forward, searching for her footing, and then a hand cracked hard against her cheek. Dizzy and unbalanced, she fell to her side on the hard-packed earth. Torches flickered wildly in her peripheral vision, bursting and fading like fire-flowers, and she remembered how Kenshin's hand had covered hers as they'd watched the colors dancing across the night sky on Tanabata eve.

"How _dare_ you?" The voice hissed like a teakettle, like a furious cat as hard, cold hands lifted her by the shoulders and _shook_ her as if she was a disobedient puppy. "Was I wrong? Are you his whore, you bitch? _Answer me!_ "

She forced her eyes to focus. Yukishiro had her, was holding her by her shoulders in a death-grip. He had lifted her high enough that she had to stand on her toes, straining for balance, and his lunatic eyes glared at her like a wild beast. He shook her again, his mouth pulled back in a terrible snarl.

"Didn't I _save_ you?"

His white hair gleamed like bone in the torchlight.

White hair…

 _Well, I suppose Whitehair will be angry_ , Jinei had said, _but never mind him_.

"You sent the Black Hat!" she gasped out. "You're Whitehair!"

Yukishiro froze. His grip on her loosened, allowing her to slide down and stand on her own two feet. But he kept his hands wrapped around her shoulders, digging into her skin like talons.

"He threatened my sisters," Kaoru gasped out, not sure what was happening but seeing that it was working. "He kidnapped me, almost _killed_ me – "

Yukishiro wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. He smelled like spoiled milk, mad and rotten, and his arms were as bruising as his fingers.

"Not on my orders," he ground out into her ear. She winced, the closeness of his voice sending a fresh wave of pain through her skull. Her cheek burned where he had slapped her. "I will _never_ hurt you."

He picked her up, not bothering to untie her, and carried her back to her room, where he set her down gently. And saw to her wounds, gently. All the time reassuring her – so _very_ gently – that he would never hurt her. That it was all for her own good; all she needed to do was trust him, and believe in him. Then everything would be fine.

She didn't dare say anything, so she submitted. She let him handle her like a doll, or a tame bird, bowing her head in acknowledgement as he crooned reassurance in her ears. He was sorry that she'd hurt herself, running away from him – but now she knew that he'd never meant to hurt her, and she wouldn't run anymore, would she?

At least he remembered to untie her hands before he locked her in.

Small mercies.

And Kaoru, exhausted and hating herself for her exhaustion, for her aching head, for the fear that still shuddered through her veins at the memory of his dry, sticky fingers against her wounds, lay down and wept.

~*~

Kenshin let Suzume sleep in his arms until the young maid returned, eyes downcast, and took her. She tucked her charge into bed, then bowed tremblingly to him.

"Lady Takani has already told me the news," she said, her small voice nearly shaking. "Please, my lord, bring the lady back to us safely."

"Of course," he said, aware of Ayame's eyes on him. "One will surely bring Lady Kaoru home again, that I will."

Ayame had moved to kneel at Suzume's side, watching over her sister as she curled into a little lump under the blankets. She swallowed, reaching out to stroke her sister's hair.

"You – " she started to say, before her voice caught in her throat and she had to try again. "You should go see cousin Yahiko." Her fingers shook slightly where they rested on Suzume's cheek. "I think you need to see him."

Kenshin blinked, momentarily confused, then remembered – the boy, Kaoru's cousin, who'd been involved in the affair and changed his mind when it was already too late to stop it.

"Lord Aoshi brought him here, since it was safest," Ayame continued. "And you should go see him."

Kenshin closed his eyes for a moment, his throat thick with something he could neither name nor keep suppressed.

"So I should," he said.

~*~

The boy was nearby, convalescing in the room at the end of the hall. The priest sat just outside – the same priest he'd spoken to a week ago, before Tanabata. A lifetime ago. He started when he saw Kenshin coming and bowed, fear and grief written in the lines of his bones.

"One only wishes to see the boy, that I do," Kenshin said, as gently as he could. The priest had tried to warn him, after all – and looking back he could see how the conversation _had_ been a warning, of a sorts. Too obscure, too laden with meaning to leave Kenshin more than confused, but if he had been another kind of man, if he had been born and raised to intrigue as Kaoru had, then maybe…

Maybe. His life had been plagued by _maybe_ , by _if only_. He was never quite strong enough, never quite fast enough, never quite _good enough_ , never when it really mattered.

The priest swallowed, raising himself up a little on his clenched fists. A strand of prayer beads trailed from his fingers. "Forgive me, my lord."

Kenshin crouched down, bones aching, and searched for something to say. It wasn't the priest's fault.

"Was it not yourself who told Sano the truth?" he asked. "If you had not, he may never have discovered it in time…"

Not true; not with Aoshi already on the way, and the flinch as Kenshin spoke told him that the priest knew it.

"Please, my lord…" His fingers tightened around his prayer beads. "It is because of this worthless one's cowardice that your noble self and noble wife have suffered these past two days. The fault is mine. I accept responsibility."

Kenshin's heart thudded slow and dry in his chest, like a distant hammer sounding, and he wondered at his own numbness. Perhaps it was true that a human could only feel so much, that if pushed too far the heart would rebel and refuse to feel anything at all. It wasn't unpleasant to be this far beyond caring.

"Very well." His lips formed his master's words; his breath gave voice to what the old man had said too many times, because it was easier. "That being said, what will you do about it?"

The priest blinked up at him like a startled rabbit. "Do…?"

"Think on it," Kenshin said with a nod, suddenly weary. He stood and slid open the door, leaving the priest behind.

~*~

The boy lay on his back, his head turned away from the door. He was a small lad, compact and wiry, with a head of disheveled brown hair. Kenshin narrowed his eyes, suddenly certain that he'd seen him before.

Then he remembered.

"Yoshi?"

The boy turned his head to face Kenshin, his eyes widening. Kenshin saw, for the first time, how badly he had been beaten. He'd heard from Sano, but he hadn't realized the extent of it 'til now. It was a wonder that the child had been conscious enough to get his story out once Aoshi had found him.

"You were the stableboy." Kenshin closed the door behind him, his blood running hot and cold in his veins. "We met, once."

Yoshi – Yahiko – stared at him for a moment, then turned his face away again.

"Yeah," he mumbled. Kenshin settled himself on the mats, not sure what to say. Not that he'd had any particular idea before he came in.

Silence yawned abyssal between them, and Yahiko still refused to turn his head. Kenshin examined him, wondering how many times the pattern would repeat before the gods were satisfied. Murder and vengeance, trust given and betrayed, and seas upon seas of blood-debt rising up to choke him, drown them all in an ocean of red. It pressed down on him like a mountain: the endless dance of honor and duty, the dance that only ever ended in the flash of steel and someone's life ebbing into the dust.

There was no end to it.

"You know…"

Kenshin spoke without realizing that he had decided to speak. The boy didn't respond; Kenshin kept talking anyway.

"One thought, upon our first meeting, that you had the pride of a samurai, that I did." He thought it was inane even as he said it, but it wanted to be said. "It seemed a shame, that a boy with such a fierce heart should be a stableboy. It seems one was correct, after all – "

"Don't _pity_ me!" Yahiko snapped, finally turning to face Kenshin; turning and lifting himself half off the futon in his fury. "I'm not a little _kid_ , okay? I was supposed to protect Kaoru and I didn't – I was supposed to – "

He stopped there, his eyes flaring, and seemed unable to speak further; his fists clenched hard in the blankets as he glared at his small hands.

"It is not pity," Kenshin said. "Not at all."

And that was truth, not inanity.

"…it doesn't matter anyway." The boy's head – his _unshaven_ head, he wasn't even of age – hung low as he muttered. "I'm a traitor, now."

"You wished to protect your cousin," Kenshin said carefully. "This is a noble thing, that it is."

"I was _stupid!_ " The boy slammed his fist into the matting. "I shouldn't have trusted them – I should have _listened_ – now Kaoru's in trouble and it's all my fault. _My_ fault."

"No." Kenshin said it a little more sharply than he'd meant to. Yahiko jerked his head up, meeting Kenshin's eyes for the first time. "This grudge was meant for me, for one's own sins. You are – " _a child_ , he wanted to say, _younger even than I was_ , " – a young man who wished to protect his family."

As Enishi had been, all those long years ago. He hadn't had the words, then.

Perhaps he could find them now.

"There is no shame in that," he finished. Yahiko stared at him.

"But I didn't," he said, his voice breaking. "I was wrong."

"Then learn from it." His master's words again, coming from his mouth unbidden. "And next time, make a different mistake."

Yahiko lowered his head again, looking once more at his fists still clenched in the blanket covering his legs. His bruised face was remote, and Kenshin knew that his words had struck a chord even if the boy didn't want to admit it.

"…whatever."

"We leave tomorrow morning to retrieve Lady Kaoru," Kenshin said, standing. He didn't have anything else to say; he couldn't think of anything worth saying. It was the same thing, in the end. "Please, stay with Lady Takani and recover, or my wife will be cross with me."

Yahiko didn't say anything. Kenshin left, sliding the door shut behind him.

~*~

The priest was still kneeling in the hall, his prayer beads clicking rapidly through his fingers. He scrambled to his feet as Kenshin came out, vibrating with suppressed energy. Kenshin was reminded, unkindly, of a puppy that needed to go outside.

"My lord – " He paused, seeming to gather himself. "My lord, I have – I ask – it is possible, my lord, that if I went to the castle where the Lady is being held – Whitehair still does not know that I have betrayed him. He believes that I am still a part of his conspiracy. I know from Sir Aoshi where the lady is being held, and I could go and – and tell her that you are coming. I could bring a message to her, my lord. If – if you think it wise."

It took Kenshin a moment to decipher the priest's outburst, and a moment more to realize then import of what he was saying. He grabbed the priest's shoulders without thinking, a terrible hope dawning in his dulled heart.

"Truly?" he asked, searching the priest's face. "You would do this?"

"Yes." The priest's face was frightened and firm, his jaw shaking with the effort of strength. "It is the least – I owe this much, if not more. My lord."

"Then go." Kenshin met the priest's eyes and held his gaze, willing him to understand how vital this was. Kaoru must not believe herself abandoned – must know that he was coming for her, that he had not broken his promise to her, that he would always find her, _always_ , so long as she lived to be found. That he would rend the heavens and shatter mountains to find her. "Tell her – "

He paused for moment, not sure what to say – what sign he could give the priest to assure her that it _was_ his message, and not some cruel trick.

"The magpies," he said abruptly. "Tell her I said that the magpies are on their way. We leave tomorrow morning, and it will take two days travel, I think, to arrive with the proper force – since we must be careful. So three day's time. Or however long it is, by the time you reach her. Tell her that."

"The magpies. Yes. As you say."

"Go now – ask Lady Takani for what you need. Take whatever you need, only go _today_."

"I will." The priest nodded frantically. "I will, my lord. I'll tell her."

"Thank you." Kenshin let go of his shoulders. "Thank you, sir priest."

~*~

Kaoru didn't know how much time had passed when she managed to rouse herself from her exhausted stupor. Her head ached from the earlier blow and from her prolonged weeping; her eyes were sore, and her mouth was dry. She wiped her face on her sleeve as best she could, wincing as the soft white silk came in contact with her bruises.

There was a pitcher of water, and a glass. She poured herself some and downed half of it before she thought to worry that it might be drugged. She finished drinking it anyway. It wasn't as if it mattered.

Her cheek throbbed. She touched it lightly, her tears threatening to return as Yukishiro's voice hissed across her memory.

_Are you his creature?_

She'd never heard such hate in a human voice. A stark contrast to his earlier tone, and how he'd spoken to her as he tended the wounds he'd inflicted. Then he had been all sickening over-sweetness, hot and insistent in his lunatic affection. His violence only exploded when she defied him. When she acted as if she was more than what he seemed to wish her to be – a helpless maiden and himself her noble rescuer.

That, she realized dimly – cursing and blessing her training and the place in her mind it had created, the place that was always watching, always _learning_ – was why mentioning Jinei had stopped him. It had given him a reason: she had run because she feared him, not because she loved her husband.

Luck. Pure luck, and trained instinct. She may not be as lucky next time.

 _Next time_. Kaoru laughed a little at the thought, strained and half-hysterical. Would there be a next time? How many times could she act out against his delusions and survive? How long could she maintain his precious fiction?

She could wait. She had to wait. She would wait. As long as she played along – and the thought made her shudder, gut churning, but she could and she would, if it was necessary, because she'd _promised_ – if she could just win a bit of freedom, she could make contact with Lord Aoshi. The clan had people everywhere; there was scarcely a village in Hito or the Kanto, however small, that didn't have someone with a messenger pigeon squirreled away. If she waited, the opportunity would present itself.

That would take time, though, and she didn't know if she _had_ time. Yukishiro's plan had to go deeper than simply kidnapping her. Hadn't Jinei said as much? _When this is over, you'll be free of your husband and your blood-debt, too_.

She'd thought that he was talking about himself, saying that he would kill Kenshin. Which would have freed her. But he'd been chasing the _fight_ , not the victory, had truly seemed not to care whether he lived or died. If he had been talking about Yukishiro, on the other hand…

Kaoru stood and began to pace. Not enough information – not enough to plan with. She had to get more out of Yukishiro, somehow. Playing into his madness might help with that, but such a strategy carried its own dangers. Maybe – if she could get her hands on the right herbs, there were recipes to loosen the tongue and calm the body that would get him talking but leave him too lethargic to do much more than that. Only how to get what she needed? She could ask to cook, to make herself useful – to apologize for her escape, he'd believe that – except that she was a terrible cook. Even Tae hadn't been able to teach her…

Tae.

Shirojo.

Kaoru clenched her fist near her heart, squeezing in the grief and fear that she had no time for. She had to assume that they – it would have been too risky for Yukishiro to leave them, since they'd been in the room when she was taken and knew that she hadn't killed herself – and they weren't _here_ , so they hadn't been taken with her – so they were probably –

 _Don't think about it_. She couldn't afford think about what probably happened to them, any more than she could afford to think about what Kenshin and her sisters must be going through.

Grimly, Kaoru began to search the room again. She went lowly, this time, and was much more thorough, running the sensitive pads of her fingers across the seams in the furniture and the wood beams in the wall, just in case. Hidden drawers were a common enough feature, and even if there wasn't anything _useful_ in any of them, it was still good to know where they were. And there might be a hidden door – there were often secret passages out of a castle's inner rooms. If Yukishiro was only stopping here for a few days, he might not know every way in and out…

She was searching the vanity, pressing lightly against the decorative carvings, when one of them suddenly gave way with a soft _click_. A section of the top popped up just enough for Kaoru to grasp it in the tips of her fingers and pull it out, setting it gently aside to reveal a small, shallow compartment.

There was a notebook inside it: hand-bound sheaves of rice paper, yellowed with age, and entirely unremarkable except for the name written on the front in an elegant noblewoman's script.

 _Tomoe Yukishiro_.

Yukishiro…

Her breath caught in her throat.

Kaoru lifted it carefully from the compartment, her fingers trembling, and began to read.

~*~

_Tensho 18, 8_ _th_ _month, 1_ _st_ _day_

_Akira is dead, and the Hojo have fallen._

_I write these words and there is no sense in them; I had thought that committing them to paper might bring order to my disordered heart, but no matter what I do the words are only words. I cannot grasp their meaning._

_Am I disloyal for caring more that Akira is dead? I could survive the fall of my clan's liege lord, but how am I to survive Akira's death? I never told him. Not once. I never told him how happy I was to be his betrothed. Why couldn't I say it?_

_Akira is dead and the Hojo have fallen._

_If I live a hundred years, will those words ever have meaning for me?_ _  
_

Kaoru frowned, momentarily distracted from the ache in her skull. The Hojo… they were the clan that had ruled the Kanto before Lord Toyotomi had conquered them, with Lord Tokugawa's help. Tokugawa had been given their lands as a reward, surrendering his ancestral holdings in return…

Kenshin had fought in that war. The Hojo had been the last clan to stand against Toyotomi; they were old and proud and did not take defeat lightly. There had even been, it was rumoured, an attempt by some retainers to avenge their fallen lord. Kenshin's first wife – the one who was not spoken of – had supposedly been involved, and he had killed her merely on the suspicion of disloyalty. Though Kaoru was convinced, now, that the official story was not the full one. She knew her husband, and he could never hurt someone without reason, least of all someone under his protection.

Kaoru flipped through a few more pages, skimming over entries full of simple recounting – I went there, I did this, someone said that – until an entry a few months later caught her eye.

 _Tensho 19, 2_ _nd_ _month, 10_ _th_ _day_

_I am to marry again. Akira is not even half a year dead and my marriage has already been re-arranged. I am to marry one of our new lord's favorite samurai. I am a prize, the spoils of war given to reward a loyal retainer. But my family is wealthy and traces our descent from the Emperor's court and so I am a valued prize._

_The man who I am to marry is the same man we have heard so many rumours about, who joined Lord Tokugawa's service scarcely five years ago, when he and Lord Hideyoshi were still sparring in the hills. Would that they had stayed there! Would that this red-haired demon had had the courtesy to_ _die_ _there, and leave me be!_

_At least the marriage will not last long._

_Father has not forgotten his duty to his lord. I am no bride but a serpent in a pleasant disguise sent to nestle at the bosom of our enemy. I am to earn my husband's trust and learn his weaknesses, use him to pierce through and strike at the heart of the Tokugawa regime. This will likely mean my death; yet the Tokugawa will die with me, and who could ask for a grander funeral pyre?_

_Akira is gone; there is nothing left that I fear losing. I will endure this world a brief while longer and wait to see Akira again._

_Enishi has taken to sulking. He is still a child and understands things as a child does, with a great concern for_ _fairness_ _. I worry about what will happen to him. Perhaps I was too indulgent with him... but with Mother gone, there was no one else to raise him._

_He will come to terms with it in time. He is samurai; he knows his duty, even if he sometimes struggles to yield to it._

Kaoru's hand covered her mouth, stifling the gasp that tried to tear from her throat. _Red-haired demon…_ she had to mean –

Then this was –

And she _had_ been – the rumours _were_ true, at least a little –

Her heart pounding in her throat, Kaoru read on

 _Tensho 19, 3_ _rd_ _month, eighteenth day_

_My husband is a smaller man than I had expected, shorter than myself by a few inches and a full year younger. His hair is red, though, red as the stories say. As red as blood. He barely looked at me during the ceremony, and blushed the one time that our eyes met._

" _Please don't be afraid of me," he said, when we finally sat alone in our bedroom. I didn't know how to respond, so I bowed. It is always safe for a woman to bow. I thought that he might touch me then, but he didn't. He didn't seem to know what to do._

_He asked if I wanted him to leave; he said that things could wait until I was ready. Until we were no longer strangers to one another._

_I did my duty. It is the place of a wife to please her husband, and if he is not pleased with me – if the marriage fails – then I have failed. I must convince him to hold me close, the better to strike when the time comes. This is my duty, and I have nothing left save my duty. If I cannot do that, then what am I?_

_He was uncertain, and tried to be gentle. He thanked me, afterward, and brought me a glass of water. His fingers shook when he gave it to me, and he smiled when I thanked him for it, as if he was relieved._

_It was not as dreadful as I had feared._

_His eyes are not as they are in the stories. They are a strange, deep color like flower petals, bright and wondering, not pale and cold and lit with hellfire as I had thought they would be. I do not know how a killer can have such eyes._

Kaoru gripped the diary tightly, creasing the page as her stomach dropped into the hollow at the base of her spine.  There were no tears left in her, so she did not weep. But not for lack of wanting to. She would have wept, if she had had the tears: for Kenshin and for Tomoe, who had gone to her bridal bed a sacrifice. As Kaoru had – but Kaoru had learned otherwise, and Tomoe…

Had she even had the chance?

Kaoru flipped quickly past more entries, searching.

 _Tensho 19, 8_ _th_ _month, twentieth day_

_My husband is a lonesome man. This does not displease me, as I am not much for company these days. He keeps asking if there is anyone whom I would like to visit, somewhere I might wish to go, and I finally told him the other night that I wished to visit the local temple to pray._

_I didn't wish any such thing. But it seemed important to him, and I am his wife. I must please him. If pleasing him means allowing him to think that he's pleased me… then I will go, and say I enjoy myself, and smile if he buys me some trinket, and thank him tonight as a wife should. No matter how much it makes my stomach hurt._

_I will do my duty. I have nothing left._

_We went to the temple today. The day was chilly; autumn came early this year, and the auguries are for an early winter as well. The leaves on the maple trees were just beginning to die, turning brown and curling along the edges like little half-formed cocoons. No one came near us, though I know that people recognized us; how could they not, with my husband's blood-red hair to mark us?_

_The wind began to blow as we walked home, and he stepped in front of me with his arm outstretched, as if he could shield me from it. I thought that it was strange of him. The wind has never done me any harm._

_It was a strange gesture, but I cannot forget it. It was instinctive; he slid himself between me and what he worried might harm me as naturally as breathing. And I do not know why the memory of his back haunts me, or why I can still feel his fingers branded in the skin of my palm where he helped me from the palanquin._

_I am writing this by candlelight. He is sleeping behind me, on our shared futon, and my body still aches from receiving his. It was different tonight. There was warmth in his touch, and I found my hands buried in his hair when he pressed his lips to mine. It was soft, like silk, and for a moment –_

_Nevermind._

_It all seems very distant – as though it is some other girl, and not I, who was called to make her body an instrument of revenge. As though I sit in judgment of some other woman's deeds, unable to see her thoughts and uncertain of what drives her._

_I wonder what judgment I will make._

~*~ _  
_

_Tensho 19, 10_ _th_ _month, seventh day_

_He feeds stray cats._

_I have learned this because one of them chose to have her litter in our kitchen. He told me about over breakfast, to explain the slightly muddled meal; it had quite disoriented the cook to find a mother-cat nestling in her pantry, five contented kittens nursing among the bags of rice and radishes. He spent the better part of the morning coaxing her from her chosen spot to a more convenient one – for the humans, anyway – in a storage room just off the parlor._

" _It's sort of a compliment, isn't it?" he said, when she was finally relocated. "At least she felt safe here…"_

_The mother-cat looked up from licking one of her piebald sons and I could almost believe that she was seeking out my gaze, looking me deliberately in the eye. We stared at one another for a long moment; then, with a dismissive trill, she went back to tending her young._

_I watched him feed the horde this evening – and it_ _is_ _a horde, though he knows them all and worries for the ones he hasn't seen lately – and wondered what that mother-cat had seen in my eyes._

_The stray cats love him. They clustered at his feet, begging for strokes as much as fish, and he gave them his attention freely. He laughed as he did so. I have never seen him laugh before._

_What do those cats see?_

~*~ _  
_

_Tensho 19, 10_ _th_ _month, thirteenth day_

 _Last night, I opened myself to him – my_ _self_ _, not merely my body. I let myself feel, and know, as a woman can and a woman must if she is to survive. For all the lives he's taken there is not a drop of cruelty in him; he came to me wondering and alive with wanting, as if I were some celestial maiden descending for one night to give my blessing. I had not seen – no, I had not_ _let_ _myself see how much he loves me._

_I do not know why I did it, why I chose to inhabit my skin after so many nights of hiding within it. Because the nights are drawing down long and dark and cold and his skin is warm, and his eyes are bright. Because he makes sure the mother-cat is fed and warm and safe, and keep her and her children company. Because he feeds stray cats and lets them crawl and leap and cuddle against him, without a thought for his own dignity._

_He is not the man I wanted him to be._

_~*~  
_

_Tensho 19, 10_ _th_ _month, fourteenth day_

_My husband has terrible handwriting. It is the only thing that I've ever seen frustrate him; he mutters under his breath whenever he's called to write, not cursing but pleading with brush and ink and clumsy fingers in language I wouldn't have thought he'd know. Old, archaic speech, such as they use in the Imperial court._

_I offered to teach him, today. He is a patient student._

Kaoru drew in a shuddering breath, letting it out in something that was not quite a sob. The shape of the tragedy was coming clear to her: the remembered weight of the poison in her hand burned like coals, the poison that she had come so close to feeding him. She could have written these entries: grief and rage, confusion and the lingering fear because the world was meant to be one thing and truly was another, and killers were only kind men with gentle eyes who smiled like a happy child…

 _He is not the man I wanted him to be_.

If she had realized, then why…?

Kaoru flipped through the pages, still searching.

 _Tensho 19, 12_ _th_ _month, twenty-second day_

_So much time has passed that I had almost forgotten my true purpose here. Then Enishi came to visit. He brought a message from my father with him._

_I am to slip away tonight and tell him what I know – tell him the demon's one weakness. They will destroy him, and then Lord Tokugawa._

_Something has changed in my brother. He was always petulant and prone to fits of temper. Now, though, there is a strange edge to his rages, a danger that was never present before. He smiled so sharply when he told me that the time of vengeance had finally come, and when I hesitated…_

_Never once in his whole life has he raised his voice at me, until today._

_I hesitated to answer him. Why did I hesitate?_

_Kenshin is practicing his calligraphy as I write this. He is still dreadful, but he tries every day. The mother-cat's kittens have grown to the point where they will not stay in their room and wander freely through the house. One of them is patting at his brush as he tries to write. Soon Kenshin will give in and play with her; then her siblings will come, then her mother, and eventually the cats will be holding court with Kenshin as pillow and playmate._

_I know what he is. Yet however hard I look at him, I cannot see a killer any longer. I can only see Kenshin._

_Akira is dead, and the Hojo have fallen. There is blood between us, an ocean of it, and only blood can pay for blood. He must die. I must not let him die._

_I must serve my father. I must save my husband._

_I do not know what to do._

~*~ _  
_

_I am sorry. I am sorry, my love. I am so sorry._

_I should have loved you better._

_I cannot let you do this. I cannot let you – not for me. No more. No more death._

_Akira should never have gone to war. He was a kind, gentle man. He hated violence, and he was never a good swordsman. He went to war because I could not say what I needed to say, could not do what needed to be done. He went to war for love of me and died for love of me and I will not allow you to do the same._

_Forgive me, my second love. I should have loved you better – loved you both better._

_You will find this, and you will read and you will know the truth. It was all a lie but I don't regret it, not a single minute of it. I regret only that it was never true. That I will not have the time to_ _make_ _it true. I regret –_

_Oh, my second love. You stole every happiness I had, and then returned it all to me. How can I hate you? And how can I forgive you?_

_There is no time. And you must live, my husband. You_ _must_ _. You swore to me, and you never break your oaths. I cannot let you break one now. Not for my sake. I don't deserve that._

_This is the only way that I can protect you._

_Live, beloved. Live, and love again – love a woman who will give you all that I never had the chance to give. All the things that you deserve – sunlight and laughter and children with hair the color of autumn leaves instead of blood._

_Live. Live and find happiness again. I forgive you. I forgive you. Forgive me. I love you._

_Farewell._

There were no more entries.

Kaoru leafed through the remaining pages, just in case, but they were all blank. The story – Tomoe's story – ended there, with Kaoru's questions unanswered. If she had changed her mind, then why had she died? What had happened? Her last entry seemed to say that she'd felt it was the only way to protect Kenshin…

Before Kaoru could follow that line of thinking to the end, there was a knock on her door.

"Permit me to enter, Lady," Yukishiro said from the hallway.

Kaoru threw the diary quickly back in its compartment, dragging the lid over it and picking up the comb next to the mirror just in time to pretend that she had been combing out her hair as Yukishiro entered the room. He hadn't waited for her to invite him.

"Sir Yukishiro." She greeted him politely, but found herself unable to meet his eyes. So she kept hers cast down, small and meek, and clenched her teeth tightly to hold back her words. Her bruises throbbed in time with her pounding heart.

"Lady." He settled down on the tatami and, to her surprise, bowed. "Forgive me for my roughness this morning. I did not know that the Black Hat had told you of me; I should have realized that you would fear me once you made the connection. Please understand that his actions towards you were _not_ my orders. He was never supposed to harm you, or your sisters."

"I… understand," Kaoru managed to choke out. She realized that she was toying with the comb and forced herself to stop, settling her hands neatly on her lap.

"I am not Himura." Yukishiro straightened as he spoke, staring at her with his feverish eyes. "I could never hurt you, Lady. I thought – I thought, perhaps, that I was wrong, that you were that monster's creature. But you're not, are you?"

He reached out and stroked her cheek lovingly, the same one that he had slapped. The sickness of it nearly choked her; her ribs and head still ached from his blows.

"I was harder than I should have been. But you should have come to me. You should have trusted me, and asked about Black Hat. You'll trust me in the future, won't you?"

Kaoru forced herself to bow, pulling herself in from her skin and refusing to think about her actions. "Of course, sir," she murmured through numb lips, her voice not her own. "Please forgive my foolishness."

She'd never had to do this before, though her mother had taught her the trick of it – _just in case_ , she'd said, with worried eyes. _You are still a woman, after all; there are things that you must know in order to survive_. But she'd never needed this trick before. Never had to bow and apologize when she was not at fault. Never had to murmur gently and tremble to soothe a man's disgruntled ego, to spare herself further pain. Never had to _submit._

Rage brewed inside her, swirling and stirring, trapped and growing ever stronger in the hollow below her heart.

"That's all right." Yukishiro was smiling now, genial and satisfied. "I'm not a jumped-up peasant; I won't be offended if you don't understand something right away."

Kaoru's brows drew down in confusion as she lifted her head. _Peasant?_

"Sir?"

"Surely you noticed?" Yukishiro's smile never wavered. "He's another elevated peasant, like that wretch Toyotomi was. Only at least Tokugawa had the grace to keep it secret."

"I – " Kaoru lowered her eyes again, hoping he would take it for shame. It _did_ explain a great deal, but what did it matter? The division between the classes was a recent thing; only an handful of the great samurai families traced their origins back to the bloodlines of the Imperial court. Her own family had only acquired noble relations a few generations back, in her great-great grandmother. In her father's generation a man might have farmed half the year and fought as samurai the other half.

"Don't be distressed." He slid two fingers under her chin and tipped her face up. She endured it, hating his touch. "It wasn't your fault. How were you to know, or resist even if you had known? I, at least, do not hold you dishonored."

Kaoru bit back a snarl, focusing on the delicate patterns painted on the wall just beyond his head. It was a scene in early winter, with fog flowing along a river, and she traced the gentle lines with her eyes, over and over, willing herself to absorb their serenity. Let him think that she was shamed that a peasant had touched her; let him think whatever he wanted, so long as he never saw her hatred in her eyes.

"And he will never touch you again, Lady. Never!"

His tone was elated. Kaoru's stomach knotted in dread. She willed herself to stillness, poured her being into the smooth, clear lines of the painted fog rising from the painted river.

"The demon slit his belly open this morning." Yukishiro's smile became a grin as he said it. "The rider only just came – he rode all day to bring the news. Himura is dead, my lady. He will never trouble you again."

The words didn't make sense.

"W-what?" Her tongue lay in her mouth like a dead thing; her blood drained into her heart, leaving her face and fingers tingling.

He said it again, and the words made even less sense as her heart expanded to fill her ears, her whole being, roaring and pounding against the walls of her flesh. _Not true_ , her blood wailed in her veins, _not true, he wouldn't, he can't –_

But her slow-beating heart cut through the chaos and made her see that there was no lie in Yukishiro's eyes.

This was not a trick.

"…dead?" she managed to say finally. "Ke – my – Lord Himura is dead?"

"Yes, my lady." His touch on her face was almost a caress. "You are free."

 _I will find you. I will come for you. I swear it. I will always,_ _always_ _come for you._

He'd sworn, he'd _promised_ , as Father had promised and _he'd_ broken his promises too –

Yukishiro touched her cheek, lightly, and his fingertips came away gleaming with liquid. She was crying, though she couldn't feel it. She'd thought that she had no tears left to cry. He looked at his fingers for a long moment, as though he had never seen them before.

"There, now," he said at length, and folded her into an embrace. His body was as feverish as his eyes, as though he was being consumed by fire from within. Kaoru found herself pressed with her nose against his collarbone, unable to escape his strange, spoiled scent, and when she pushed away he only held her tighter. His arms squeezed against her bruised ribs, burning. "It's all right. It's all right, now."

"Please," she choked out, nearly gagging as she pushed her balled fists against his chest. "Let me go – "

"No," he said dreamily, stroking through her hair. His skin caught against the strands, pulling at her scalp, and she shuddered. "Never again. Don't be frightened, dear sister. My sister. Don't fear for your future."

"My future?" She froze, her heart leaping to rattle in her ribcage.

"You will marry again – an honorable marriage, this time, not sold to demon of no noble blood. You will marry into honor, and bear sons of noble blood, as you were meant to." His grip on her tightened to the point of pain. "My family's failure to kill that demon when we first had the chance brought this fate on you, and I will set it right. I will marry you, Lady Kaoru; I know your innocence as no other man can. As soon as the Tokugawa are overthrown and Japan is free again, I will take you to wife."

He rested his face in the crook of her neck, as Kenshin had so many times – as he never would again – and his alien touch made her shudder.

She had lied. The last time she had spoken to Kenshin – the last time she had touched him, held his hand – she had _lied._ Had said that Black Hat had told her nothing, when he had. When he'd told her about Whitehair. About Enishi. If she hadn't lied –

Kenshin was dead and Kenshin couldn't be dead, but there was no lie in Yukishiro's voice. Only triumph and rapture and that awful, sickening tenderness.

He let her go, eventually, and she sat numbly with her hand crossed neatly over her thighs, eyes cast down.

"My sisters, sir. What of them?" She kept her voice soft and trembling with emotion, though her heart had begun to still in her breast and that was good. Let it be only an organ, pumping blood through her veins to keep her alive a little longer. Better to be only meat and bone and living blood, and not a feeling creature.

"I'm told that they're well. You'll be reunited with them soon – within a year, all this should be over with. Bear with it until then."

"As you say, sir," she said, concentrating on achieving the correct drape of her fingers: delicate and strong, as a lady must be.

"I must leave you now," he continued, oblivious. "But we'll sup together tomorrow, in celebration."

He stood and bowed, and left her, and Kaoru sat for a long moment in numbed silence, listening to the dry beat of blood in her contracting veins.

The last time Kenshin had kissed her had been three days ago, the morning before she was taken. Just after breakfast, as he was leaving; he'd leaned over in the foyer (there had been no one there to see) and pressed a shy kiss to the corner of her mouth. She'd turned into it, surprising him, and pulled him down into her until he'd curled his arms around her waist to keep his balance. When she'd finally let him go he'd been flushed and dazed, his bright eyes wide and his reddened mouth curved into a wondering smile. So she'd kissed him again, just to make it sure it stayed there.

And the last time she'd seen him alive, she'd lied to him.

The floor tilted beneath her. Her breath caught in her lungs, threatening to choke her.

She'd lied to him. She could have told him what she'd known but she didn't, because she didn't _trust_ him, not yet, not in that. And because she hadn't he'd had no way of knowing, no way to prepare and –

He was dead. How could he be dead? When he'd promised, he'd _promised_ her –

There was no strength left in her. She sank to the floor, weeping silently, and curled her arms around herself. Enishi's touch echoed like poison on her skin, stronger than the memory of Kenshin's gentleness, and his promise filled her lungs like water. She was drowning in it, in that hot, sticky embrace.

_I will take you to wife._

Kaoru bit her hand, trying to muffle her sobs. Never. _Never_. She'd slit his throat first – slit her _own_ , if she had to –

_No._

The thought came creeping up from the depths, cold and still as a winter morning.

She'd been worried about time, hadn't she? But there was no reason to worry any longer, was there? Kenshin was dead. Her sisters were safe – if she could believe Enishi, and she did. Vile as he was, he had not been lying to her. The information he'd received – he believed that it was true.

 _He_ believed.

 _Nothing is true until verified_. Misao had told her that once, with an offhanded cheer. _I mean, you have to trust your sources, of course, but people can be wrong_.

Kenshin was dead, but her sisters were alive. He wouldn't have left them alone. Even if Yukishiro's plot had succeeded – if somehow they'd brought enough pressure on Lord Tokugawa to make Kenshin's continued existence a political liability – but how likely was that?

Possible. He was a controversial figure; there had already been a scandal over his first wife, and then the recent affair with the Black Hat. Possible. But not overwhelmingly certain.

These were facts; these were known things, and therefore real.

"Trust, but verify," she whispered, to no one in particular, and pushed herself off the floor.

If Kenshin was dead – her heart tried to seize at the thought and she quashed it ruthlessly – then she had time. If Enishi had been deceived, then someone knew what was happening and was taking countermeasures, and help was on the way. If Enishi was _wrong_ – then Kenshin was alive and he was coming for her.

So she would wait. Wait, and play along, and search for her opening. Sooner or later, he would trust her enough that she could get a message out to Misao. And then –

If Kenshin was alive, he would come for her. If Kenshin was dead –

If he was dead –

Her fingers curled into fists, digging into her palms. The skin gave way with a hot _pop_ , like water dropping on stone.

If her husband was dead, then she would stay exactly where she was. Let Enishi have his pretty fever-dream while she worked towards his destruction. Let him believe he had won – let him know happiness, _real_ joy, as she had, just for a moment –

And then she would take it all away. Destroy him and all his work, and bury his head at her husband's feet.

Everything he had taken from her, _she_ would take from _him_. And then some.

"Everything," she whispered aloud, her eyes like glaciers. "Every last thing."


	15. beyond love and hatred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late. I was sick, and swamped with some temp work. Fanfic will now resume on regular schedule - so the next update to Beyond Reason and Measure will be March 29, two weeks from now

Kaoru endured, somehow. She retrieved the diary from its hiding place and read it again, scouring it for clues – for anything that could help her. Yukishiro had twined her and his dead sister together, merging them into one false woman. He desired both and _saw_ neither; the better she could play the role he'd allotted her, the sooner he would put his faith in her, and the sooner she could contact her allies. A tray of supper came and she ate mechanically, allowing herself to be escorted to the bathhouse afterwards. She scrubbed herself raw, until the stinging drowned out the echoes of Yukishiro's rancid, sticky touch.

Then, because she could not sleep, she knelt next to her futon and practiced her breathing until morning came. In – out. In – out. Deep and strong and certain. This body would live. This body would survive. And the woman carried passenger within it would not be harmed, because the body was only a vessel.

It didn't matter what he did. Yukishiro would only ever have the least of her.

The irony of the thought – the same one that she'd had on her wedding day, a lifetime ago – did not escape her.

Breakfast was also delivered, by a sullen man in Yukishiro's colors. A bruise marred his forehead, purpling beautifully and fading into yellowish-green around the edges. She'd probably given it to him.

She did not allow her smile to show on her face at the thought.

"Please, sir," she said politely, her body's eyes downcast and her body's voice ever-so-lightly trembling, bashful and maidenly. The guard gave her a suspicious look and Kaoru, hidden deep within her flesh, laughed. At least _one_ man in this wretched prison had the sense to fear her.

But her laughter did not break the surface of her mask.

"Forgive the inconvenience," she said, bowing lightly like a proper lady. "But – if it's not too much trouble – if there is any sewing that needs to be done, or cloth that I might embroider on – it troubles me that there is nothing I can do for my lord Yukishiro, who has done so much for me."

She'd thought hard about this, the opening salvo. His dead sister – _Tomoe, Kenshin's first wife_ – had been a gentle lady, not a tomboy. So that was the part that Kaoru must play, and he expected her to be grateful so she must act grateful. A lady didn't cook but she did sew, for her brothers and father and husband and sons, and sewing was something that Kaoru knew she could do.

So she would sew for him, and stitch her hate into every garment that she touched. A woman's curse, a woman's power. Eventually, he would let her do more, and then she could use what Tae and her mother had taught her, all those small resistances. Tea and sweetcakes that taste well enough but carry curses in them, herbs to muddle the mind and poison the body; mending meant to catch and tear at just the wrong moment; a thousand little nuisances, small, petty acts to keep your target off-guard. Only a little thing, but it was something. Something to keep her sane while she waited for her moment.

"I'll pass it along," the guard said, after a moment, and left her. She ate quickly, without tasting the food.

Time passed. Sometimes it passed slowly, the slow drip of the water-clock driving her half-mad and disrupting her struggles for peace. Other times it passed quickly, wild swooping gulps absorbed by the rhythm of breath and heartbeat, before some passing thought or sensation – the memory of her sisters laughing or Kenshin's smile, the creak of a floorboard outside her beautifully appointed cell – brought her back to herself. But it did pass. Half the day was gone by the time the door opened again, and Kaoru opened her eyes with it.

Yukishiro had brought her meal himself. She let herself blink, as if in surprise; her body wavered as though she was about to get to her feet. He shook his head.

"Don't rise, lady. I just thought I should take some time to see you."

He set the tray down and she examined him carefully, her body staying still and demure as she tried to gauge his mood. Yukishiro seemed calmer. Good.

"My men told me about your request," he said, perching himself at the edge of her floor. Not quite entering.

"It is an inconvenience," her voice murmured quietly. "Forgive me."

Her head turned away, and she permitted a pretty blush to cover her cheeks. Yukishiro laughed gently. It seemed he wanted to play the gallant, today.

"No, that's not it. I'm very glad you've found something to occupy yourself with." He beamed at her. Her eyes glanced back shyly at him. "I've sent one of the men to a nearby town for cloth. My sister's sewing kit should be here… does it have everything you need?"

"Yes."

"Good. He should be back by this evening. In the meantime…" His eyes roamed over her and Kaoru's body remained still, pliant, allowing his gaze even as she shuddered. Let him look. Let him admire her, a pretty doll on a shelf. Let him look, and then look no further. "Are you well enough to receive visitors?"

"Visitors?" Kaoru snapped her head up, momentarily herself again; then she caught her error and retreated. "I – that depends on who it is, sir."

"A priest. An ally in our struggle against the Tokugawa – a student of that foreign priest your father was so fond of. He's been sent to check in on you. Apparently his master is worried."

"Worried?" Her head tilted slightly in girlish confusion. Behind her eyes, Kaoru's mind raced. So the priests had been involved… "About what?"

"Just your health." Yukishiro sighed and shifted. "He feels like he owes it to your father to see you safe. It would be helpful if you could tell this fellow that you're all right."

There were layers here. She had to tread carefully. Her eyes flicked shyly up at him from under her lashes.

"I… it would please me, sir, to be helpful."

He nodded. "Then I'll send him up. With a guard. Don't let him tire you."

"Of course, sir."

~*~

The priest was young and terribly skinny, with a tight and anxious look in his eyes. He bowed as he entered the room, and again when he settled down in front of her, his hands wringing tightly in his foreign prayer beads. The guard he had been sent with knelt just beyond the door, keeping a watchful eye on them both.

"My lady," he said, with a nervous nod. She inclined her head gracefully in recognition – and she did recognize him. Her heart clenched in fury.

"Brother Mateo."

"Forgive my earlier deception, Lady Kaoru," he said, and his voice was very thin. He coughed a little, to clear it. "It was deemed necessary that you have no warning of what was to come."

"I understand," she murmured, thinking of the plump Portuguese priest who had been her father's friend. Who perhaps imagined that he still _was_ –

She did not tighten her fingers in her gown. Later. Later, she would pass judgment on those who had helped Yukishiro. For now, she would survive.

"Sir Yukishiro tells me that Father Benedito sent you to see that I was well-treated?"

"Ah – yes." He said it too quickly, with a slight shake of his head. Kaoru narrowed her eyes.

"You may tell him that I am in good health," she said smoothly, unwilling to draw any conclusions from the strange gesture. The fresh bruise darkening her jaw doubtless gave away her lie, and that would be a test in and of itself. If Father Benedito was still her father's friend, and cared more for that then his order's intrigues…

"I am in good health," she continued, "and very grateful to Sir Yukishiro for his assistance. Please set his mind at ease."

The words were bitter gall on her tongue.

"Gladly, lady." The priest cleared his throat. "Forgive me, but – Sir Yukishiro tells me – you have been informed of your husband's fate?"

Her back straightened, the yowling rage in her belly surging and threatening to break her composure. She forced it down, swallowing it like foul medicine.

"Yes." Her voice was too harsh. She modulated it quickly. "It is what he deserved."

 _Forgive me_ , she begged his memory. _Forgive my lies_.

The priest blinked at her, owlish and confused; then he seemed to understand something and he glanced at the guard, who was no longer watching them quite so closely. After all, their conversation was only the murmurings of priests and women.

Brother Mateo tightened his hands in his prayer beads and leaned in, almost too close.

"My lady," he murmured, low and urgent. "I am charged to bring you a message. Your husband bids me to tell you that the magpies are coming – tomorrow, if all has gone according to plan. Do not lose hope. Sir Aoshi is with him."

"What?" She said it loudly enough that the guard started, his attention drawn back to the room. Kaoru rested a hand quickly on her heart, giving a particularly feminine flutter as her throat constricted, tight and terrified that she had misheard, or heard correctly – her husband, her Kenshin – but how – ?

"That is wonderful to hear, sir priest," she said, and reached for the first thing that came to mind. "I am glad to know that my sisters are safely home. Father Benedito will see to them, you say?"

She begged him with her eyes: _play along_ , they murmured, and _is it true, please tell me it's true, it must be –_

If it was not true, if this was some trick… but why would it be a trick? What benefit was there in such a deception? Did Yukishiro doubt her that much…? She didn't think so. And how could he know about the magpies, about what that meant to her, and to Kenshin? Even if he'd had spies in her household – well, she knew Kenshin's reputation, and how content everyone who didn't _know_ him was to believe that was the full truth, the only truth. And how few people truly knew him. Even if they'd known that he had waited, they could never know that everything that had passed between them had been of _her_ will, and not his.

"Yes." The priest's eyes acknowledged hers, answering her question. "I am not sure if they may be permitted to know that you are still alive, my lady, but if it is so – is there a message you would have me send them?"

Not to her sisters but to _Kenshin_ – though it would doubtless reach them as well. Kenshin, who was alive, alive and coming for her. Had to be. No one else would know about the magpies. And Lord Aoshi was with him. Her allies were coming. Her _husband_ –

Not dead. _Not dead_.

Kaoru reached up and undid her hair, letting it fall from the strange looped style that Yukishiro had insisted on. The only thing she'd managed to keep was her ribbon – the blue one that brought out her eyes. She'd have to use those thin white ones, now, but not for much longer.

Not if this was true. And this had to be – _had_ to be.

"Here. Give them this, as a token. Tell them to be good and patient girls."

She passed the ribbon over, using it as an excuse to lean in close enough to murmur back:

"And tell Kenshin that if he's late, I'll _divorce_ him."

The priest took the ribbon, sliding it carefully into his sleeve.

"I will pass the message on, lady." He waited a beat too long before he continued. "If my superior permits."

"Thank you," she said, and startled him by bowing until her forehead nearly touched the ground. "Thank you very much."

~*~

Kenshin kept his head low as he rode, which was probably unnecessary; he was too high up for anyone to see his eyes, and his hat covered his distinctive hair. Still, it never hurt to be cautious. Sano walked nearby, equally disguised. He'd refused a horse.

There was very little chance of moving troops without drawing attention; however, there was a garrison near the abandoned castle Yukishiro had taken as his own. Messengers in Tokugawa colors hurrying from garrison to garrison were a common enough sight, so Lord Tokugawa had sent one to alert them and prepare for the assault. Aoshi had traveled with him, the better to co-ordinate the efforts, and Kenshin had been forced to eat and sleep before setting out to join them. Now they were nearly to the garrison, and it was growing near evening. Aoshi would probably insist that they wait overnight.

Kenshin shifted, anticipating the argument. Mouse grunted in annoyance, blowing out air in a horsey sigh.

It wasn't that he didn't see the sense in it, because he did. Kaoru was in no physical danger. They needed to strike hard and sure, to wipe out the enemy. There was more at stake in this than his marriage.

It was just that he couldn't quite make any of it matter. Kaoru was so _close_ – he could so easily go and fetch her back _tonight_ , him and Sano – they'd always worked best unencumbered anyway – he could be in and out and have her safe at his side again before the sun rose, with hardly anyone the wiser –

Kenshin exhaled. It wasn't quite hard enough to be a sigh, but Sano heard it anyway.

"Waiting's getting to you, huh?" he asked quietly. Kenshin risked a nod.

"We could just head straight there," Sano suggested. "That's an option. This Yukishiro kid'll probably come straight for you again, 'specially since it's personal for him. Makes sense to deal with everything at once, straight and open. But I dunno."

"Sano…" Kenshin rubbed the bridge of his nose, annoyed at the sense his friend was making, and at the fact that he'd needed the reminder. He didn't _want_ to be sensible. He wanted Kaoru back.

Sano shrugged. "Your call. I got your back either way."

"One sees the necessity," Kenshin said flatly. "It is only that – it is very hard to wait."

"She's a tough little thing." Sano glanced up at him, stretching one arm over his head. "Knows how to handle herself. It'll be fine."

Kenshin didn't want to be reassured by Sano's confidence, either. But he was.

The captain's page greeted them outside the garrison, handing Mouse off to a stableboy and seeing them in to the small, sparsely-furnished office where Aoshi and the garrison captain were discussing strategy. Kenshin paid attention for half a heartbeat, and then he noticed the priest kneeling quietly in the corner.

"Sir priest," he said. The young man looked up, the tension in his wan face easing slightly. He stood, and the captain glanced over at them for a moment before Aoshi firmly redirected his attention to some bit of map they were poring over. Kenshin was across the room before he knew he'd moved.

"Were you able…?" He couldn't quite finish the question. The priest nodded, fishing inside his sleeve.

"Yes. The noble lady is – not unharmed, my lord, but she is safe – "

"Not unharmed?" Kenshin's heart leapt into his throat and he nearly shook the man. "What do you mean?"

"She attempted to escape, twice – " The priest found what he was looking for. " – she was injured in her attempts, but they were not serious and they have been tended to."

That was something of a balm, though only barely. Kenshin glanced over at Aoshi and the garrison captain, itching to simply take Sano and _go_. Kaoru was trapped, was alone, was _hurt_ –

"And you were able to see her? To deliver my message?"

"Yes, my lord." The priest pressed something into Kenshin's hands: a scrap of cloth, smooth and cool. "She gave me this token, and bids you – um. Bids you to hurry."

"Token…? Kenshin glanced down at his hands. A scrap of blue cloth…

Her ribbon. Her favorite one, he'd assumed; he never saw her without it. He would know it anywhere.

His fingers closed around it, stroking across the warm silk and it seemed, for a moment, that her scent still clung to it: jasmine and salt-sweat and _Kaoru_ , more precious than anything.

"She's alive," he said, without meaning to speak aloud. "She's alive."

It wasn't that he'd doubted Sano, because Sano would never lie to him. Not in this. And he'd seen the fake himself, the lie left in Kaoru's place to shatter him. He had proof – but that wasn't the same as _believing_. Now, though, with her ribbon clutched in his hand and held to his heart, with the faint traces of her scent echoing around him – now he could believe. Just a little.

She was alive and he would see her again.

"Did – " His voice caught. He swallowed and tried again. "Enishi – Sir Yukishiro. Do you know what he intends for her?"

The priest glanced away, his nerves written plain in the way he kept fiddling with his prayer beads. His throat worked.

"He – ah. He intends to – to marry her, my lord. Since he believes you dead. I was bid, to, to – erm – "

"Spit it out," Sano said impatiently, and Kenshin started. He'd forgotten that Sano was still there, beside him, forgotten that Aoshi and the captain were still in the room. Forgotten everything except the ribbon and the priest, who carried Kaoru's words with him.

"Kenshin's not the kinda guy to kill the messenger," Sano continued, with a clip in his voice that meant he was getting irritated. "What is it?"

The priest gulped a quick breath. Kenshin felt a moment's pity for him – thrown into this madness, trying to do right and uncertain what that was – and then he pushed it aside. Later, he would set things right. For now there were other things to worry about.

"I was bid to tell my superior that the Lady Kaoru's honor was in safe hands, and would be redeemed. I believe he intends to – well, to marry her. Not right away!" The priest held up his hands defensively as Sano and Kenshin started forward, moving almost as one. "Once the coup is complete, he said. That because Lord Himura – because you had taken what was most precious from him… he believes himself her rescuer, I think. Which Lord Aoshi says might complicate things…"

"Indeed." Aoshi's voice cut through the static building in Kenshin's head. It was not just a kidnapping, then, not just a move on the chessboard – which was bad enough, that Kaoru, _his_ Kaoru, might be reduced to a simple pawn. This was personal on every level, and she –

His fist clenched.

She was paying the price for _his_ mistakes. _His_ lack of foresight, his own foolishness had trapped her as she must _never_ be trapped, caught her in a web of pride and revenge and ambition and _none_ of it was her fault. It was his. His and Enishi's. They had set this trap so very long ago, and now Kaoru was caught in it.

Caught and reduced. A prize to be won.

 _To hell with that_ , he thought, and was surprised at his own vehemence. It should have been _him_ , and not her; the sin had been his and the price was his to pay, not hers to suffer –

"Sir Aoshi." He kept his voice as polite and even as he could, turning towards the low desk where Aoshi and the garrison captain were consulting. "What do you have planned?"

"Here." Aoshi gestured for Kenshin to sit. Kenshin knelt at one side of the desk, ignoring the garrison captain's startled and curious look. "Observe."

His fingers traced the map, pointing out the relevant spots in the surrounding terrain. The plan was to surround the abandoned castle in the night, leaving Yukishiro and his forces with nowhere to run. The question after that – the one that had set Aoshi and the garrison captain to bickering – was what to do after: whether to attack or lay siege. Aoshi favored siege, and the chances it brought for negotiation; an outright attack would endanger Kaoru's life. The captain, on the other hand, insisted that a quick, brutal strike was better, more certain, given that they didn't know how deeply the conspiracy was rooted or how close Yukishiro's allies were to the castle he was squatting in.

"Can we not draw them out?" Kenshin studied the map. "That would be safest."

"I don't see how," the captain objected. "There's no reason for them to come out – "

"There is one reason." Aoshi inclined his head. Sano's eyes widened in realization and Kenshin, understanding, nodded.

"Of course."

"Excuse me?" The captain blinked, puzzled as he glanced between the three men, locked in their sudden accord.

"This is personal, that it is," Kenshin said quietly. "For all his allies may think otherwise – to Enishi, this is about his sister. About – " He swallowed through the tightness in his throat, knowing that he must say the name – that much was owed – and fearing the taste of it on his tongue. "About the Lady Tomoe. If one delivers a challenge to him, he will fight. If we can convince him to bring the Lady Kaoru out as well…"

Aoshi nodded.

"Once her safety is secured, your men can attack." Aoshi informed the captain. "Not before."

"But – "

"Forgive me, but that is an order, that it is," Kenshin added. The captain subsided, as he must, and Kenshin didn't bother to explain what it would take the man too long to understand – that he _had_ to do this, for Kaoru's sake. It was the Black Hat all over again: her life endangered and disrupted because of _him_ , her person taken and used against her will because of _his_ reputation, _his_ mistakes. So it must be his body and his life on the line to win her freedom.

There was no other alternative.

"It must be tomorrow, though," Aoshi added. "This will be dangerous. The more time the men have to get into position, the surer our chance of victory."

That stung; nonetheless, Aoshi was correct.

"If it is necessary," Kenshin said, standing. "One night. Tomorrow, at first light, we begin."

~*~

The chaos outside her door woke Kaoru from the half-sleeping daze she'd finally managed to sink into long after night had fallen. She had sewn until her eyes burned, trying to exhaust herself, but the priest's words had kept ringing in her ears and she kept feeling her hair, searching to be sure that her ribbon was really gone – that she hadn't dreamed it all.

Tomorrow. The priest had said that Kenshin would come tomorrow – and tomorrow was now _today_.

Kaoru rose to her feet and crossed her lovely prison cell, sliding the door open.

"What's the matter?" Her voice was properly breathy, distressed and fainting. The guard furrowed his brow, not quite believing.

"Stay there, my lady," he said shortly. "We'll deal with it."

"Of course." She swallowed her frustration and withdrew. It had to be Kenshin, then. She was sure of it.

The thought of waiting was torturous. She waited anyway, forcing herself to breath slow and steady as she knelt, alone, beside the door. Agony and hope warred within her, clawing at her chest until her heart felt torn to ribbons. She wanted to fight her way out, _now_ , to find Kenshin and flee Yukishiro's stale, stifling grasp, except she knew better. Aoshi was with Kenshin, which meant that there was a plan, one that would be expecting her to follow the protocols for this kind of rescue, the ones that had been drilled into her since she was a small child, and _stay put_.

So she stayed put, her heart leaping every time footsteps rattled by her door. Sooner or later it would open and Kenshin or Aoshi would be standing there – or one of their men – and then this would all be over.

But when the door finally did open, it was Yukishiro who stood framed within it.

"Sir?" Kaoru didn't need to feign her fearful whisper. This wasn't right. If he'd gotten to her first, then…

Then she would have to either fight back or go quietly, and the second option was no option at all. Not remotely. She _would_ fight – she couldn't possibly do otherwise, not with freedom to close – she'd fight and damn the consequences.

"Lady." That strange fever surrounded him, burning the air between them. "Do not be afraid, but – he is here."

"Who?" She knew the answer, even as she asked. Her heart beat so hard she thought it might burst from her chest.

"Himura." He sneered as he said it, spitting the name like a curse. "He tricked my spies, and now he's coming for you. But he won't have you. My lady."

He stretched out his hand, offering it to her. She stared at it, knowing that he would misunderstand the revulsion that must be plain in her eyes.

"There's nothing to fear." The soft reassurance in his tone was anything but. He was coaxing her like a reluctant cat, even curling his fingers slightly in a beckoning gesture. "I thought you might wish to witness his destruction firsthand, that's all."

"Sir?"

"He's challenged me." Yukishiro's eyes were wild. "I never thought that I would have this chance – had resigned myself to witnessing from afar – but now, sister, now we can have revenge!"

Kaoru's blood curdled, cold and shivering in her veins. This… didn't make sense. Not yet. There were too many variables here, and she couldn't imagine Aoshi approving such a plan, not with so many things that could go wrong – if Kenshin fell, or if Enishi's men attacked during the duel –

But –

Kenshin. Kenshin – her sweet, loyal Kenshin – Kenshin, who cared so _deeply_ , who must feel himself responsible for all this even though it wasn't his fault at all. He hadn't made Yukishiro do this; that had been Yukishiro's own choice.

Still, Kenshin would think otherwise. And he might do something like this, insist on it, even. The way he'd insisted on coming for her alone when Black Hat had taken her, for essentially the same reasons – because she was convenient, and could be used against him.

And if delivering the challenge got her outside the castle walls… then Aoshi might very well approve of the venture anyway. Any attempt to rescue her would be dangerous, and with her training it would be easier to shepherd her a few dozen yards to safety than fight through narrow corridors with her still in the enemy's hands.

Kaoru took Yukishiro's hand with girlish hesitance and let him help her rise.

"Of course, sir. I am honored to be present," she lied, and watched carefully from behind her downcast eyes.

~*~

Kenshin waited outside the gates, keenly aware of the men at his back. The captain was deeply unhappy with their plan, and Kenshin was under no particular illusions about the odds of keeping him in check should things appear to be going south. Kaoru's safety was neither his duty nor his priority, and there was nothing inherently wrong with that – but it nevertheless posed a potential difficulty. Aoshi and Sano might be able to keep him in line, but Kenshin knew that he really only had one shot at this, and a limited time to do it in.

At least he had managed to convince Enishi to bring Kaoru out. It had been easier than he'd thought; Enishi seemed to _want_ her to see. Now Kenshin stood in the cleared space before the castle gates with only his sword to back him, and waited with his heart in his throat. He'd wrapped her ribbon around his hand, underneath his gauntlets, and although it wasn't strictly possible he could swear that there was a faint scent of jasmine on the wind.

The gate opened. Enishi stepped out, and Kenshin's breath caught in his throat until he thought his heart would burst as he waited, wanting to run past him and knowing that it was foolish.

A ghost followed after him. The air left Kenshin's lungs, leaving his chest hollow and aching.

_Tomoe…_

No. _Not_ Tomoe. He knew that; Tomoe was dead, and her eyes had never been such a bright, proud blue. Kaoru. Kaoru in Tomoe's clothing, wearing her hair as Tomoe had…

 _That_ was why Enishi seemed so eager for her to watch, Kenshin realized, as horror closed over his head like quicksand. _That_ was why he had gone to such lengths to keep her alive – it was more than just sympathy for her position. Something far darker drove him.

Kaoru raised her chin, snapping with pride as she had all those months ago when he'd come to take her from her home. They had been strangers, then, but he had started to love her the moment she'd thrown her shoulders back and marched towards him like a warrior going into battle.

He'd begun to love her then, and he loved her now.

"My lord," she said, her voice unexpectedly cool. But her eyes said something else; her eyes yearned across the distance between them, reaching out as she clearly couldn't. Not dressed like a doll in a dead woman's clothing, with Enishi walking too closely at her side.

"Honored wife." It was hard to speak past the thickness in his throat, harder still to find the words to say. There were no words; no apology could ever suffice, no declaration of love ever be eloquent enough. And he'd always been terrible at those, anyway.

"One will be coming to meet you very soon," he said finally. "Please wait a little longer."

Enishi bent his head down to Kaoru and said something to her, quietly. She nodded, graceful and sure, but her eyes never left Kenshin's. The nod, he understood, was not for Enishi; it was for him.

"You will do no such thing," Enishi said, stepping in front of Kaoru. His voice was unstrung with childish glee, his eyes bright and rabid. "This ends here. I see now that I must send you to hell myself. Only that will satisfy my sister. Only then will we be free of you."

He glanced back towards Kaoru as he spoke.

Understanding settled over Kenshin like a shroud. Enishi was truly insane, then; what he'd feared when he saw Kaoru dressed in her clothing was true. He had taken Kaoru in place of his sister, of Tomoe. And this was Kenshin's fault, also. If he had seen, ten years ago, if he had _understood_ , this never would have happened. If he'd been just a little wiser, a little less selfish – perhaps even if he'd only managed to face the boy when the wound was still fresh and beg forgiveness, there might have been a chance –

And now Kaoru would pay the price. Had, perhaps, already paid – no. No, he couldn't think about that right now. Later, if there was a later.

What was done was done. Tomoe was dead and Kaoru was alive, and Aoshi needed a diversion to retrieve her. And it _had_ to be him. This was his fault, his burden. No one else could carry it.

"If that is the case," Kenshin said quietly, thumbing his blade free of its scabbard, "then one will go gladly, that I will."

~*~

Kaoru couldn't look away. She knew that she should be watching the handful of men arrayed on the other side of the clearing – no more than a small escort, though she knew that there must be others, Aoshi would never commit such a limited force to such an important task – knew that she should be trying to find Aoshi among them, should be watching for his signal. Instead she stared at the men before her, her husband and her captor, and could not tear her eyes away.

Yukishiro sank into the ground, coiling like a snake, and snarled before he moved almost faster than she could perceive, whipping up dust. Kenshin took one step back, bringing up his blade to parry at the last moment. Yukishiro's clanged off of it, metal-on-metal shrieking like a dying cat under the cool morning sun. He lashed out again, forcing Kenshin farther back; Kenshin let himself be forced, sliding on one foot before he gathered himself and surged at Yukishiro, his blade flying in a complex pattern that Kaoru couldn't quite make out.

Yukishiro blocked. Ring after ring, like temple bells, and none of Kenshin's blows made it through. The two parted – came together once more in a flurry of blows as the dust whirled like a stormcloud through their battle – and then they flew apart again. This time the stayed there, circling each other warily. Blood had begun to seep through the cloth over Kenshin's already-wounded shoulder.

Yukishiro, aside from a handful of scrapes and cut near his hairline, was unharmed.

"I'm glad, you know," Yukishiro said conversationally. "Really _glad_ that we had this opportunity. For you to see. My sister is with me, now, as she should be. Always."

"I understand." Kenshin's voice was too calm; she wanted him angry, as he'd been against the bandits and the Black Hat, wanted his eyes to turn cold and pale with rage. This serenity was – wasn't like him. "Whatever revenge you have for me, I accept it freely. But the Lady Kaoru – please – she was never part of this. Let her go. Tomoe would never have wanted – "

"Me to free her?" Enishi bared his teeth in a caricature of a smile. "To be rid of you and married to an honorable man? What did you ever know about what my sister wanted?"

"This was between us, Enishi," Kenshin said very quietly. "There was no need to involve her. Or to hurt her sisters."

Enishi's eyes flashed rage, the only warning he gave before he struck again. He leapt at Kenshin, wiry muscles propelling him through the air like a pouncing cat and Kenshin flew up to meet him, clashing in another blur of steel and ringing noise. Then Kenshin hurled out of the scrum, sliding back on both feet with one hand against the ground to balance himself and charged again –

Enishi's fist slammed into his face. Kenshin reeled, spitting out a globule of blood. Kaoru watched it fall, hypnotized.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this, demon?" Yukishiro hissed. "Ten years. _Ten years_ of planning, training, pushing my body farther and farther in the hopes that this day might come, knowing that it never would. Believing that it would be enough just to watch you _die_ – and now it's finally here. Now I can _kill_ you. And you think that mentioning two little girls will be enough to stop me?"

"Not only them." Kenshin wiped at the blood leaking from his split lip. "Young sir Yahiko. Sir Shirojo. Miss Tae. Surely they had no part in Tomoe's death? Nor were they ever allied with the Tokugawa…"

Yukishiro sneered.

"They lacked conviction."

Kaoru sucked in a breath, fury flooding her veins. _How dare he_ –

"Your hatred for me is not wrong." Kenshin said quietly, sheathing his sword. "But to have involved all those innocent others… _that_ was wrong." He paused there, for a moment. His throat worked.

"It was one's own actions that doomed your sister. I would have borne your judgment willingly, Enishi. There was no need – "

" _There was every need!_ " Enishi snarled, veins bulging in his neck. "You killed my sister! Only blood can answer for blood, Himura, and it _will_ be yours! The guilty _must_ be punished! Only then can she rest in peace!"

He launched himself at Kenshin again, roaring. Kenshin flew back, his feet leaving the ground, and landed hard on the packed dirt. Kaoru saw him wince, saw his eyes slide shut for a moment in pain as he gritted his teeth and forced himself up on his hands and knees. Blood was seeping from his already-wounded shoulder, drenching his sleeve. His kimono was wet, too, slashed and torn along his stomach with still more blood dripping down from a clear wound across his stomach and side. A gut wound. A gut wound, and those were almost always fatal –

For the first time since she'd come through the gate and seen him standing there, alive and ready to fight, Kaoru was afraid.

 _Let it not be too deep_ , Kaoru prayed, dread coiling in her own belly, _let it be shallow, let it not have pierced the bowels_ , _let him live I swear, I will do anything only let him_ _live_ _–_

"Get up!" Yukishiro was raving now, his eyes blown wide and pale with fury. "Answer for your sins, demon!"

Kenshin coughed, and blood came out with his shortened breath.

Kaoru clutched at her collar.

He forced himself up on his feet, leaning heavily on his sword. His lips moved – he was speaking, but too quietly, and Kaoru couldn't hear –

" _Bastard!_ " Yukishiro fairly howled it. "How many lives have you taken – and _now_ you fear death? Coward! Hypocrite!"

He slashed at Kenshin and Kenshin barely managed to block him. Their blades resounded, singing against each other as Yukishiro bore down on him. Kenshin's wounded arm buckled and fell; he shifted to bring Yukishiro's sword closer to the guard, where it would be easier to hold him off with just one hand. Except that it wasn't. Yukishiro grinned, wild and hateful, and pressed down, down until Kenshin was on one knee, gasping as the blunt back of the blade bit into his shoulder.

"She will _never_ forgive you," he panted, burning hot and gleeful. "Taking her to wife, to your _bed_ , violating her, stealing her most precious treasure – "

"No," Kenshin ground out, but Kaoru could see that his remaining hand was shaking. "No – "

"Come on and _die_ , Himura." Yukishiro braced himself, standing over the smaller man. White hair, blue eyes – he looked like a ghost in a play, a vengeful spirit long ago stripped of all humanity. "Die. _Die!_ "

"Stop!" The cry came unbidden from Kaoru's throat. Enishi's head snapped up. His fixed his eyes on her, blue and wild, and she nearly couldn't speak.

"Sir." She took a step forward, blood thrumming in her veins, and barely understood what she was saying as she spoke. "Please…"

Now she saw Aoshi standing beyond the two struggling figures, Sanosuke at his side. Of course. She should have known that Kenshin would bring his friend…

They stood just apart from the handful of men Kenshin had brought with them, braced as if they had been about to move, and she realized too late what the plan must have been – to get her out of the castle, distract Yukishiro and then…

But she couldn't leave Kenshin to risk his life alone.

Their faces were pale. Aoshi shook his head at her, just once, but she couldn't listen now.

"What is it?" Yukishiro's voice was harsh, his gaze suspicious. Kaoru took another step forward. Kenshin raised his eyes to look at her. There was fear in them; she could see his mouth forming a silent protest, and she ignored it. Her heart danced, beating against her ribs like an imprisoned bird and she didn't know _what_ she was doing except that she had to do it.

Yukishiro's attention had been fixed on Kenshin, and that had been her window; she could have ignored him and run to safety. Should have. Now he was focused on her, and now she was committed to this course, wherever it was going to lead her, and she really should have come up with some sort of _plan_ first but she _couldn't_ have run, not with Kenshin on his knees. Couldn't take the risk.

He had to live. _Had_ to. She didn't want –

She didn't want him to die. Didn't want to go home – and when had that lonely manor become _home?_ – and have him not be there, didn't want to wake up to an empty space beside her instead of his arms around her.

"This isn't right," she managed to say. Yukishiro narrowed his eyes at her.

"This isn't justice," she said again, knowing even as she spoke that it was pointless. All she was doing was putting herself in danger. "This isn't what I want – what your sister would have wanted – "

 _I should have loved you better_ , Tomoe had written. Kaoru understood. If she had loved him better, had _trusted_ him, then maybe – they would have had all the information, both of them, maybe they could have stopped this –

"Kaoru, no." Kenshin's voice, strained and too soft. Yukishiro snarled, shifting his gaze back to Kenshin for a moment.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to her that way."

Then – in that moment when she was free of Yukishiro's blinding intensity, when she could _think_ again – Kaoru understood.

 _Only blood can pay for blood_.

Her jaw still ached where she had fallen – where he had struck her. She flexed her hands, remembering the raw burn of the ropes against her wrist. Yukishiro's, and Black Hat's – her uncle – so many men, all hellbent on making her body a battle ground.

Lady Tomoe –

– _called to make my body an instrument of revenge –_

Lady Megumi –

– _either way, it was my fault_ –

– _this is between men_ –

– _if you were fated for anything else, you would have been born a man_ –

The reason her mother had made her father swear the oath his brother had broken –

 _No more_. She thought it calm and cold, and some small part of her stood back, watching with frightened eyes as she held out her hand.

"Sir, give me the sword."

Her voice was very cold. Yukishiro furrowed his brow, more puzzled than angry, though she could see the anger lurking in the depths, waiting to surge forth if she said the wrong thing, cleaved to the wrong desires, did anything other than _as she was told_.

 _Only blood can pay for blood_. Her blood, Lady Tomoe's, Lady Megumi's, countless others. Dolls and pawns, brides and brood-mares and no one ever, _ever_ asked them if they wanted more.

Because if they were destined for more, _they would have been born men_ –

The rage in her eyes was hers alone. But Yukishiro had never understood that she was real, so he saw only what he wanted to see.

"My lady." There was _respect_ in his voice. She nearly laughed. "Of course. You have the right."

 _One would not presume to take this choice from you_ , Kenshin had said, under similar circumstances, and she could _almost_ believe that it was the same thing. Almost. If she didn't know that Kenshin would have spared Black Hat, had she asked, and Yukishiro never would. Never. Because this – this wasn't about her, or his sister, or even Kenshin. This was about _him_. She was only a symbol, a prop in his drama; even his beloved sister was nothing more than an _excuse_.

 _Live, beloved_.

Yes. Kenshin would live. She would see to it – and it would end _here_. This would be the last time – the very last – that any man or woman moved her like a chesspiece across the board to serve their own ambitions.

Yukishiro thought that she was harmless. Only a woman. Only a thing to be moved as men chose, to go where men took her.

He kicked Kenshin's stomach and Kaoru did not let herself flinch; while Kenshin gasped and struggled for breath, Yukishiro grabbed him by the hair and forced his head back.

Kenshin was staring at her, his eyes bewildered and wide with pain and shock. _Trust me_ , she tried to tell him without words. _Believe in me_.

Yukishiro held out his sword to her, hilt-first.

Yukishiro had attacked a great lord, threatened Tokugawa power, and he was only one small man with a small band of small warriors. Had attacked _her family_ , hurt her sisters, used her cousin, tried to kill her husband. He was already a dead man; the only question remaining was how many lives he would take with him as he died.

Kenshin would not be one of them.

She took Yukishiro's sword. His fingers brushed against her, hot and sticky, and she repressed a shudder at the contact.

 _I choose this_ , something whispered in the depths of her heart, calm and strong. The sword was as heavy as a packet of poison in her hands.

Kenshin had _earned_ that mercy. With every shy smile, every gentle word, every careful _request_ when he could have given an order; by the space between them that she had cultivated and he had respected until she chose, _she chose_ to bridge that gap, and he was never anything more than grateful. He had _earned_ her kindness.

And Yukishiro –

– _I wonder what judgment I will make_ –

– Yukishiro had earned nothing. Not even the truth.

"Do you see?" Yukishiro was gloating, his voice full of mocking laughter as he uttered the same hollow taunts, the same self-serving lies. "Justice at last, Himura. Justice for my sis – "

Kaoru raised her arm in a fine, graceful arc, and struck off Yukishiro's head. It wasn't that hard; her arm jarred, halting a little as she cut through his spine, but he kept his blade sharp and it was no more than a temporary disturbance. The skin of his neck parted like silk, warm blood spewing out like a fountain, drenching her like summer rain. The head fell into the dirt, trailing crimson. Its teeth chattered like gamepieces falling from the shelf and she watched it as though it was not real, or it _was_ real and she was not.

The body's knees buckled and the corpse fell, pitching to one side and barely missing Kenshin. Her husband stared up at her, his pale face flecked with the blood that had soaked through her fine white robe.

"…Kaoru."

She couldn't think of anything to say. There was a great outcry behind her, from the castle walls, and a greater response from the surrounding woods as men in Tokugawa colors emerged like ghosts from the trees, longbows taut and ready to fire.

" _Enough!_ " The roar came from her belly, the seat of all truth and power, and ripped through her like a wave. In one smooth gesture she bent and grabbed Yukishiro's head by the hair, rising to lift it high and show the bloody prize to his men. Blood dripped down her arm, down the blade of the sword. She felt alien in her skin, a mind hidden and watching from behind her eyes.

It shouldn't have worked. But it did; a hush settled over the field and she felt all eyes fixed on her, the white-clad woman stained with blood. It made, she was sure – in the still calm place that bordered her screaming heart, kept her feelings locked away until the appropriate time – a striking picture.

"Your leader is dead," she said, projecting her voice as her father had taught her. She'd never had to use it before. "You're surrounded. _You know what comes next._ Stand down, and I will give you the chance to die as samurai."

Death – swiftly and by their own hands, or long and torturous at the executioner's. If they fought, some might die in battle, but more would be captured. Because this was _treachery_ , and the new regime would need to make examples of them.

She could offer them only one mercy. But had chosen this path knowing the price of defeat, and she could not pity them.

A woman's word. She could see them thinking, arrayed on the wall with their own longbows nocked and fixed on her. A woman's word should mean nothing, should have no power –

She looked them slowly over, meeting every pair of eyes until, at long last, one of them lowered his bow. The others followed, staggering and uncertain but inevitable as the tide, and soon enough each man on the wall had bowed his head.

"In one hour, my men – " and she should have said _my husband's men_ , or _Lord Tokugawa's_ – but that didn't feel right, somehow, " – will take this castle. You have that long to see it done."

There was a scuffle behind her, the sound of something hard thumping on flesh. Probably Aoshi, enforcing the chain of command.

The man who had been first to lower his bow nodded, tightly, and disappeared behind the battlements. The others followed, raggedly.

"Interesting." Kaoru turned to see Aoshi standing next to her. He was watching the castle, his eyes as guarded as they ever were. "Do you think they'll keep their word?"

"I don't know," she said quietly, and let Yukishiro's head fall. It rolled a little ways away and came to rest nose-downward in the bloodied, hard-packed dirt. "It doesn't matter. I had to give them the chance."

"As your father would have," Aoshi said, with neither approval nor disapproval in his voice.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that Sanosuke was already at Kenshin's side, peeling away his blood-drenched kimono. He'd already shucked off his own coat and folded it into a makeshift bandage.

"My lord husband needs a doctor – " she started to say.

"Taken care of," Aoshi said calmly.

And it would have been easy, then, so easy to rush to Kenshin's side. So easy to –

Her hands began to shake.

"My lady." Aoshi was still at her side. "He will be cared for. We must get you to safety."

She should have gone to her husband. To _Kenshin_.

Instead, she followed Aoshi.


	16. if it could weep, it could arise and go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took a while. Stuff happened. Sorry about that.

The garrison had a bathing-room, a private one, and Kaoru scrubbed at herself until her flesh was raw and aching, until the water ran clear from her body instead of tinged with arterial red. It took some time.

When she was finished, she could still feel Yukishiro's fingerprints. They seeped past the sting, forcing their way into her muscle and bone, leaving sickness in their wake and she shuddered, afraid of her own skin.

She dipped her fingers in the tub, but the water wasn't hot enough. Steam rose in gentle curls from the surface, twisting and dancing like fog-spirits, and she remembered how her breath had misted the glass of her mother's mirror one cold winter morning. Truth and wisdom, honesty and power. Her mother's mirror, now _hers,_ as it had been her grandmother's and her great-grandmother's, passed down through the generations in an unbroken line.

 _Men forget_ , her mother had told her. _We remember_.

Kaoru stared at the surface of the water for a long time, unseeing. Then she shook herself, shrugged into her robes, and left. No one met her eyes as she walked to the small room that had been set aside for her – a woman, a lord's wife, a lady in her own right, and she could hardly be expected to bunk with the men – and she was strangely comforted by that. If anyone had demanded an explanation of her, for anything, she wouldn't have had one to give.

The room was small and bare and far from the main barracks. She preferred it that way.

She should have gone to her husband, but – what could she do? The doctor was seeing to him. And. And…

He had looked so shocked, staring up at her with Yukishiro's blood splattered across his face like a spray of crimson flowers. It had been necessary; she did not – would not – regret taking Yukishiro's life. That wasn't it…

Yukishiro had taken her captive, held her for days against her will when any proper samurai lady would have ended her life and Kaoru hadn't, because she _would not_ , because Kenshin had held her hands and asked her, _begged_ her – _live,_ he'd said, _live and I will come for you_ –

Her father had made a promise, too.

Kenshin was only a man, after all. A good man, a kind man, the best man she'd ever known but _only_ a man and there were some insults that no man could tolerate. With his wife taken hostage… how could he not assume the worst?

He wouldn't hate her for it, either. He was too kind for that. He would _pity_ her.

She felt the bars of the cage closing in around her, the pretty little noblewoman's cage she'd thought that she could live in, if it was his – because it was such a large cage, with so much room to fly. But it was still a cage, and he would pity her and care for her but never, ever love her again, because he was only a man and she could only expect so much.

She couldn't go to him. The world was too heavy for that: the air itself pressed down on her like a shroud, heavy and smothering. No matter how much she coaxed, her limbs would not respond.

So she waited.

~*~

Kenshin raised his hand to knock on Kaoru's door. Then he hesitated. Perhaps…

No. No, he needed to see her. Even if – if she told him to leave, he would go. But he needed to – to _know_. If she would allow him to stay. To hear from her own lips that she –

That she what? _Forgave_ him? That was too much to ask. But…

His bones ached, his stomach tight with stitching. The garrison doctor had told him to stay in bed, but neither Sano nor Aoshi had bothered trying to keep him there.

He knocked on the door.

"I do not require anything at this time." Kaoru's voice, too calm and cold to be true.

"Honored wife," he said, and cleared his throat. "Kaoru."

She had walked by him without a word, red blood soaking into the white silk of another woman's clothing and staining her skin. It had seemed a dream, at the time. Some strange night terror, a delirious fancy. But it had been real and he had to know –

There was a long silence.

"Honored husband. Please, come in."

Kenshin opened the door. There she was, kneeling in the center of the small, bare room the captain had set aside for her. She was too small against its starkness, contained when she should be… settled, certain in a world that shaped itself around her.

He slid the door gently shut behind him and stood for a long moment.

"…Kaoru."

His throat hurt when he tried to speak.

She looked up at him, her eyes dull and remote as they never were and he wanted to go to her, to gather her up in his arms and hold her and assure them both that they were _alive_ ; he wanted to wake up and find that this had all been some vile dream, that his negligence hadn't led to… to _this_ …

"My lord husband," she said. Her formality almost shattered him.

A bruise spread across the side of her face, dark and greening around the edges. His fault.

"Honored wife," he said again. "I – forgive me. I am sorry."

He found himself on his knees before her without knowing when or how he'd moved, his hand reaching out to her and still not quite able to bridge the gap.

"I am _sorry_."

So utterly inadequate against the scope of what had happened.

Kaoru looked away, her mouth set in the thin, straight line that he'd seen too many times in the early days of their marriage – before they truly _were_ married.

Then, inexplicably, she softened.

"…there's nothing to forgive, Kenshin," she said softly. "It wasn't your fault."

"Kaoru." He whispered it. She turned to face him and her eyes were her own again, bright and blue and shining with tears gathered in the corners, tears that she should never have had to shed. Kenshin touched her face, his fingers trembling. "Oh, Kaoru."

"There is nothing to forgive." Her voice was so fierce as she repeated it, like an article of faith. "Nothing."

"He hurt you." Kenshin's tongue was clumsy, tripping on the words. "He hurt you and I – I should have – "

"What could you have done?"

"...one hardly knows, that I don't." Kenshin sat back on his heels, uncertain. Kaoru held herself back, her hands folded neatly on her lap. "Has the doctor…?"

"No."

"Perhaps he should – "

"I don't need it."

"Are you – ?"

"I don't need it!" She bit out the words, her face flush with insult. "I am not – I do _not_ require a doctor, honored husband. I am not – I have not been dishonored."

Kenshin blinked at her, utterly bewildered. Kaoru refused to meet his eyes, her back ramrod straight and her hands clenched in her robe, deliberately not shaking.

He couldn't imagine, for a moment, what she might mean. And then, with a lurch in the pit of his stomach at the thought – that he hadn't even _considered_ , in his selfishness, forgetting that she was a woman, forgetting what men could do – he understood.

"Kaoru," he said softly. She glanced up at him, her eyes starkly vulnerable.

"Nothing could _ever_ dishonor you."

~*~

"Nothing could _ever_ dishonor you."

The words broke over Kaoru like a wave, leaving her gasping in their wake. The words and the look with which he said them: heartbreakingly sincere, his strange eyes fixed on hers with so much _love_ that it took her breath away. She choked back a sob, ashamed and furious at the reflex. She was samurai and the daughter of samurai and she _should not_ _be_ so uncontrolled, so lost to her emotions. Should have faced her fate calmly, without protest –

Instead she pressed her mouth hard into the back of her hand, biting at her lip to smother her tears.

"Kaoru…"

Kenshin's hand covered hers. It rested over the hand fisted white-knuckle tight in her lap, warm and solid. Holding her without keeping her, a cage with no lock and an open door.

A cage that had never been there at all.

She had forgotten. Yukishiro had not touched her honor but he had stolen from her anyway, with his hot hands and his lacquered room – she had _forgotten_ –

"Please," Kenshin said. She thought her heart might shatter in his hands. "Tell me what should happen next."

Kaoru fell against his chest. Kenshin's arms came around her, tight and fierce and nothing at all like metal bars. Tears slid out from under her tight-shut eyes and she wept as if she was a child again. Her fingers clutched at his shirt; he bent himself over and around her, sheltering her.

"I'm sorry," she managed to gasp out. "Sorry, I – "

"No. No, no." He shifted, drawing her impossibly closer. She pressed herself against him, shuddering in the circle of his arms. "One's own fault, that it was. Not yours. Never yours."

"It _wasn't_ ," she insisted, Jinei's words echoing in her memory. _Whitehair will be angry_. If she had only _trusted_ him… "It wasn't."

"Ah, Kaoru…" Kenshin bent his head to hers, brushing his face against her neck. Asking to rest there, as he had so many times before. She drew him down and let him, comforted by his weight, by the familiar warmth of him stealing through her skin and erasing Yukishiro's fever-sticky touch. "Forgive me."

"We'll forgive each other," she said, shaking. Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes.

"Yes." He curled around her and she around him, each holding the other as if there was nothing else worth keeping in the world. This – this was all that mattered: him in her arms and she in his.

They stayed that way for a long time, their breath and heartbeats mingling as the seconds drained by like water from cupped hands.

After a time, Kenshin stirred against her.

"You are certain that you do not need a doctor?" he asked.

Kaoru nodded.

"Really. He – he never touched me. Not – that way."

The bruise on her face was the all the explanation that she needed. Kenshin drew back a little, reaching out to brush his fingertips lightly across it, as if he could wipe it away.

"This should never have happened," he murmured. "None of this…"

"It's all right." She thought that she might weep again: she was all rawness and salt left to dry in the wind. "Really. I've had worse just training."

He smiled a little at that, his eyes soft and pale as the sky before sunrise.

"Tell me what to do," he said quietly. "One hardly knows where to begin – but whatever you wish, if it is within one's power."

His hands were tight around hers, his eyes glowing with conviction and a love so fierce and bright that she wanted nothing more than to shield it and take it as her own. To curl around it and warm herself: to burn away all evidence of Yukishiro's touch, every lingering taint that kept her from living in her skin.

" _Whatever_ you wish," he said again. "Whatever you need."

"Kenshin…" It was hard to speak past the tears gathered in her throat. "I…"

His thumb caressed the back of her hand, driving away the lingering shame.

"I want to forget." The words came quiet and unbidden, spoken from the deep silence underneath her heart, the den she'd made to hide herself while Yukishiro played with his doll. "Kenshin – I know, when we return to Edo, there'll be – there'll be so much that needs doing but until then I want to _forget_."

Her hand gripped his, tight and needing. She looked hard at him, willing him to understand.

"Just for a little while, I want to forget. I want Yukishiro and all of this to – to have never been. Please…"

Kenshin's lips parted in surprise. For a moment it looked like he was going to say something, make some point – an objection, or a question –

Then his bright eyes softened. He lifted their joined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, so light and gentle that it was barely more than breath.

"One can do that," he said. "That I most certainly can."

They kissed. She could not tell whether he kissed her, or she him: their mouths met somewhere in the space between, fierce and hot and yearning. Kenshin cupped her face in his hands, his tongue stroking over hers with careful, certain force and she clutched at his shoulders and his hair, pulling him down into her until he wrapped one arm tightly around her shoulders and lowered them both to the bare tatami floor. He kissed her again, more softly, and Kaoru swept her hands hungrily under his shirt to the bare skin of his back. Smooth and hot and creased with old scars…

She frowned.

"Your wound."

"It's fine, that it is," he mumbled into her hair. "One knows the limits of one's own body, that I do."

"Truly?"

He braced himself for a moment on his elbows, one hand tangled in her hair. Not tight, not gripping – curled and caressing. Adoring her. His eyes were soft and clear – no fever here, no hot obsession, just _him_ seeing _her_ and loving what he saw. He traced the outline of her lips with the fingers of his free hand, delicately, and she was left with no choice but to draw them in and suck. He shuddered, bending down to kiss the frail skin at the corners of her eyes.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered, as she had only a few days ago. A lifetime ago, when they'd been different people.

She kissed the tip of his nose.

"Fine. But don't blame _me_ if the doctor yells at you."

He laughed softly at that, for all his eyes were careworn. She saw the worry behind them , worry that must be reflected in her own face – there was so much left unresolved, so much still to do before they could be _home_ again – but that was for later. Later, they would talk and plan and fret and mourn. For now they would _forget_ ; for now she would know only that he loved her and she loved him and _nothing_ could ever change that.

Kenshin bent to kiss the hollow of her throat, hushed and reverent. Kaoru tangled her fingers in his hair and stopped thinking.

He went slowly, achingly so, tracing the lines of her body with the utmost tenderness. His mouth was warm and wet against her skin, laving care on every inch of her collarbone and shoulders, lingering there until she arced against him, yearning. He smiled against her skin.

Before she could fully communicate her frustration he'd eased open her robe and ducked down to tease her breasts, sucking lightly at her peaking nipples. Heat lanced through her and she fell back, gasping, as his strong hands curved around her shoulderblades and brought her closer to his mouth. He settled between her legs, and she wrapped one foot around his calf.

His hands, certain and sure against her skin: his mouth hot and tender on her breasts and farther as he licked his way down to her stomach. Desire curled heavy and slick at the base of her spine when he paused for a moment to nuzzle just above her belly-button.

" _Kenshin_." She yanked a little at his hair. He groaned against her skin, fingers tightening for a moment, then moved further down to skim his lips lightly across the crease of her hips and the inside of her thighs, each time skating a little closer to the heat pulsing through her from the pit of her stomach to the top of her head, certain as the rolling tide.

Then, _finally_ , when she was about ready to take matters into her own hands, he hooked her legs over his shoulders and kissed her where she most wanted him to.

She was not gentle with him, though he was with her: she fisted her fingers ardently in his hair and pulled him hard against her, his tongue meeting every thrust of her hips. His hands anchored her, holding her steady even as she pushed and bucked against him and he followed the faultlines of her pleasure, taking her apart again and again until she cried out and collapsed, shaking, in his arms. He had time to press one last hot kiss to her before she pulled him up her body and kissed his glistening mouth, tasting herself.

Her _self_. Kaoru trembled, fully present in her limbs, and kissed him again. Kenshin yielded eagerly, letting her roll him unceremoniously on his back and straddle him. Fierce need devoured her, licking at her nerves likes wildfire and she ground deliberately down. He pulled her hips against his, encouraging her, but she was determined to set her own pace and made sure that he knew it. He arched his neck, when she pinned his wrists about his head, straining without fighting, and she didn't let him go. Instead she bit him – not hard – but enough to leave a mark. Enough to _see_.

"Kaoru – " he gasped, his hands fisting futilely in the cloth of her long-abandoned robe. He looked up at her, dazed, and she remembered the other eyes, the _wrong_ eyes, the eyes that looked at her as if she was a thing to be won and then put away on a high shelf and not a woman to love and please or a partner to race wild with under the bright summer sun.

" _Mine_." It slipped between her lips unbidden, animal in its rawness. She braced one hand light against his chest, his pulse thudding against her fingertips. Alive. Alive and here and _hers_.

"This is _mine_ ," she said quietly, leaning over him. "No one takes it from me."

His face softened into a gentle smile.

"Yes," he said, his hand sliding over hers where it lay against his heart to curl loosely around her wrist. Neither claiming nor imprisoning: simply there, reminding. Anchoring. _Hers_. "Yes."

Kaoru took him with a fierce deliberation, sliding him into her like she was coming home. His back bowed beneath her, unable to quite match her with his injuries but that didn't matter; she didn't _want_ him matching her anyway, not right now. She thrust back against him, claiming every strangled gasp and moan with her own mouth until climax took them both, and she swallowed his nearly anguished cry with her kiss.

They lay still for a long time afterwards, lost in a warm, spent silence. His fingers played idly up and down her spine; his breath ruffled her hair. She closed her eyes and thought of absolutely nothing.

"You'll catch cold, that you will," Kenshin said, after a while. Kaoru cuddled closer to him.

"Don't care," she murmured.

"Ah." There was a peculiar sort of breathiness when he spoke, as if he wanted to laugh but couldn't quite bring himself to. "Then for one's own sake, at least…"

"Your injuries. I – I'd forgotten." Kaoru raised her head, abashed.

He cupped the side of her face, smiling his small, tender smile.

"That was as you wished, was it not?"

"…it was." She laced her fingers with his, turning her head to kiss his palm as he had hers, so many times before. He shivered a little, just as she always did. "Thank you."

"Always." Kenshin shifted under her, propping himself up. "Whatever you desire, Kaoru. Always."

Between the two of them, they managed to get enough bedding out on the floor to sleep on. They were both laughably weak after the duel and their exertions, and they _did_ laugh, a little, at how much they trembled to do this simple task. Hollow, teary laughter, but no less healing for it. And when they lay down again, they lay down wrapped completely in each other.

"I have to tell you something," Kaoru murmured into his shoulder once they were settled again. Kenshin stroked her hair, holding her tight against his side. She didn't mind. She'd never minded – she never would.

"Anything."

And she knew, somehow, that he was telling the truth.

"I lied," she said simply. "About Black Hat. He said – he said something about a man he called Whitehair, a man who'd hired him, and I set Misao and Aoshi looking for information about him. I should have told you, but I didn't. I didn't – "

He kissed the top of her head.

"It doesn't matter, that it does not," he mumbled, caught on the edge of sleep. And she was rapidly joining him there, the safe, gentle warmth of his skin against her lulling her into dreamlessness. "One knew – " he yawned, interrupting himself. " – one knew that you had not said all there was to say on the matter of Black Hat. Perhaps one should have pressed you further, but…"

A sleepy, eloquent shrug.

"One bears the blame as well, for not paying closer attention, that I do. Sir Yukishiro was one's own enemy, not yours; one should have watched more closely. It doesn't matter," he said again. "You are safe again. That is all that is important, so it is."

"Kenshin…" No more tears; she had none left. After all this time, she was finally shed of them.

"I love you."

The words were so _easy_ to say. His eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion, flew open when she said it.

"Kaoru." His fingers touched her lips, as if he could somehow feel the words. She smiled, a little shakily. He looked at her for a long moment, solemn and awed, his autumn-leaf hair falling in thin strands over his pale skin, his summer-sky eyes.

"…I love you," he said finally. Their fingers twined together, resting in the space between their bodies. Joined and linked by their own choice, and no other.

It wouldn't be this easy, Kaoru knew. There was too much left unresolved – the matter of Yukishiro's co-conspirators, of the traitors in their house that had led to her kidnapping. Politics, vicious and impersonal, would have its pound of flesh. But this – _this_ had been set right, this quiet space that was theirs and theirs alone. That would be enough. She would _make_ it enough.

With that thought, she let herself sleep.

~*~

Aoshi left them, silently, before they reached the gates of Edo. Kenshin didn't see him go. They were greeted there by a squadron of men in Tokugawa colors. The leader bowed to Kenshin in polite greeting.

"Your pardon, honored lord, but his Eminence the shōgun requests and requires your attendance immediately at a private hearing regarding the recent matter."

Kenshin closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to refuse and knowing that he couldn't. He had a duty – to the shōgun, to his country and his people, to his _wife_. As much as he might want to ignore Lord Tokugawa's summons and sleep for the next few days, it was impossible. But perhaps…

"Might one at least escort my honored wife to our home?" he asked, his voice carefully equanimous.

"Your pardon, my lord." The man bowed again. "This lowly self was unclear. Your honored wife is _also_ requested and required to attend."

Kaoru shot him a shocked glance, her eyes widening in something that was… not quite fear. Kenshin tightened his hands around Mouse's reins, his knuckles whitening. There was very little chance that this would be good.

The urge to turn and flee was almost overpowering. Who could stop him, after all?

"Surely her testimony might be gathered at another time," he protested weakly, knowing that it was futile. The man bowed a third time.

"This lowly self can tell you no more than that, my lord."

Sano glanced slantwise at them both, waiting for their decision. And it was tempting, moreso than it should be, to defy his orders for a change. To remind the shōgun –

Of what, exactly? Kenshin had sworn his oath years ago, and if Tokugawa had used him hard, well, what else had he expected?

"If my presence is commanded by the lord shōgun," Kaoru interjected quietly, to the astonishment of the Tokugawa guard, "then there is no choice but obedience, my lord husband."

"…as you wish, honored wife," Kenshin said quietly, feeling the guards' stares. Let them stare. He was sick to death of them, of this city and this court, of old blood and old grudges and men who struck at him through those he loved instead of facing him openly. Who drew the innocent in their maneuvering, then cast them aside as tainted by their involvement in something they did not choose –

Enough.

"Lead the way," he said. The men fell in around them, and he couldn't tell if they were meant to be an escort or a guard.

~*~

The hearing was being held in one of the smaller, less magnificent chambers. Whatever this was, it was to be an intimate affair: the grander indictment was doubtless scheduled for later that day, after guilt had already been decided. Lord Tokugawa sat on a high dais, two guards slotted in their appointed places in the corners behind him. There were no courtiers in evidence, no trusted advisors lining the walls of the room with stoic miens and calculating eyes. A scribe knelt nearby, pen at the ready, waiting to bear witness. Other than that there was only the shōgun and the three small figures kneeling before him: Kaoru's cousin, her uncle, and her aunt.

Yahiko knelt alone, still bruised from his beating; his parents sat off to one side. All kept their eyes politely downcast in the presence of such an august personage, but only Yahiko was watching the floor. His father stared at the shōgun underneath his lashes; his mothers' gaze was fixed immovably on her son.

"Lord Himura," the shōgun said as they entered. "You have returned."

"Yes, Eminence." Kenshin bowed, and Kaoru bowed with him in perfect unison.

"I presume that Sir Yukishiro has been dealt with?"

"He has, my lord." There was very little chance that Lord Tokugawa did not already know about the part Kaoru had played in that. And if he didn't, he would soon enough: either way, Kenshin had no interest in bringing it up.

"As expected." The shōgun inclined his head slightly. "Take your place, Lord Himura."

Kenshin did so. Kaoru knelt beside him and ever-so-slightly behind, as protocol dictated. Her hand brushed against his in passing and, just for a moment, their fingers touched and twined.

It could, he supposed, be worse. He could be facing this alone.

"You are called here in a matter of extreme delicacy," Lord Tokugawa began. "The boy Yahiko is convicted by his own testimony of treason, having conspired with the enemies of his rightful overlord to overthrow him. Normally, judgment in this matter would fall to Lord Himura. However, given the unique circumstances of this case, and given that the treachery occurred in my palace, while Lord Himura was my invited guest, I consider this matter to be treason against my own person as well as Lord Himura. The sentence for such a thing is, of course, death by execution."

Kaoru sucked in a breath behind him. The scribe bent his head over his writing-desk, his brush dancing rapid and birdlike across the paper. Kenshin tensed, preparing to say something – but Sir Kamiya got there first.

"My lord." Sir Kamiya bowed until his head touched the floor. "Please, my lord, I beg clemency in this. My son is not yet even of age."

"Indeed, he is not," Lord Tokugawa raised an eyebrow. "But he claims that you knew nothing of this plot, that he alone was contacted by the late Sir Yukishiro and he alone entered into this conspiracy. Your son acted as a man in this, and I see no path forward but to treat him as one."

"Eminence." Sir Kamiya kept his head down. "Your pardon, my lord, but the boy lies to protect his father. Everything Yahiko did, he did at _my_ order, without knowing what the result would be. He merely obeyed his father, as a good son must."

Lord Tokugawa appeared to consider this. Kenshin started to speak again – this was _wrong_ , Yahiko was barely more than a child, and everything he'd done had been to protect his family – but Kaoru's fingers were suddenly pressed against his wrist, light and cautioning.

He glanced over at her. She gave the very smallest shake of her head, her eyes intent on the scene unfolding before her. The scribe kept writing, recording without judgment. Nothing more than words on paper.

"Admirable," the shōgun said, after a long and thoughtful pause. "Yet it changes nothing. A traitor's family dies with that traitor."

"My lord." Sir Kamiya licked his lips nervously. "I confess, I used my son ill. He is young and innocent and knew nothing of the larger plan. He is _innocent_ in this."

Sir Kamiya looked for a moment as his son. Yahiko looked back, his eyes wide, and horror filled them when his father nodded slightly. He looked as though he wanted to protest – but his father's brows drew down like thunderclouds, in a clear if unspoken command, and whatever Yahiko had been about to say died in his throat.

"Interesting." Lord Tokugawa turned his attention to Yahiko. He looked so small, huddled in on himself, like a pile of old bones and cloth at an abandoned shrine. "Is that true, boy?"

"It's… true." The world came reluctantly. "I didn't know. If I had – " He paused there, then looked up. His eyes met the shōgun's, fierce and fearless. "If I had known what would happen, I _never_ would have done what I did."

A lie that was not a lie. Kenshin would have been impressed, if it wasn't for his growing fear. That Lord Tokugawa was building a trap was patently obvious; what he couldn't figure out was what on earth his liege lord hoped to catch, or how he could protect Kaoru's only living family from it – especially with her fingers like steady brands against his wrist and the small, forbidding shake of her head…

 _Why_ did she not want him to interfere?

Lord Tokugawa studied Yahiko for a long moment. Even the scribe paused, waiting.

"I believe you," he said, softly. "Yet still I am faced with the necessity of your death. Traitors _must_ die, child; surely you know that. It is the only punishment grave enough for such a crime. To swear an oath before heaven and break it…"

The shōgun shook his head, slow and regretful.

"It is a violation of celestial order. As the gods rule over the earth, so does the emperor rule over men, and his appointed lords carry out his will. To defy this order is to defy the gods, and demands punishment as severe as the crime. No man has the right or the power to defy the heavens."

This was an act. Kenshin had seen his lord setting traps enough times to know when he was acting, but the shōgun had remarked to him once that the best performances had a grain of truth in them. The sorrow in what he said next was unfeigned: the pity in his eyes for the child in front of him was no lie.

"And I have even less than most."

Yahiko swallowed, hard. Then he bowed as low as his father had – lower, even, his forehead pressed hard against the floor. His hands were shaking slightly.

"I understand the sin this man who was my father has committed," he said, his voice far too old. "And I submit myself totally to your judgment in the matter, my lord. But this lowly self would beg one favor of you, Eminence."

"Speak." A cloud passed before the sun, casting to shōgun's face in shadow. "And I will decide."

"Let it be known that Yahiko Kamiya is no more." His voice trembled as he said it. "The man who was my father is a traitor, and I despise him for it. If I am to die, let me die without the stain of a traitor's name."

"I see." Kenshin knew by the shōgun's sudden stillness that the trap had been sprung. "You disown your father, and all that he has done."

"Yes, Eminence."

"You disown your name, and all privileges associated with it; all rights and inheritances under law and treaty?"

Kenshin glanced over at Kaoru. She met his gaze with another forbidding shake of her head and he didn't say anything, even as protest clawed its way through his throat, because this was _her_ cousin and her family and – _politics_ , which she understood as he didn't. If she didn't think it was wise to interfere, then he'd hold his tongue.

But _why –_?

"Yes, Eminence."

"Then," the shōgun said, with something that was nearly like triumph, and almost like pity, "let sentence be passed."

He straightened his back, snapping out his fan in a command. The scribe's scratchings intensified.

"Let it be known," he said, "that the Kamiya have revealed themselves as traitors. They are to be condemned henceforth, their name and holdings stripped from them. Miyauchi Kamiya and his household will be put to death as common criminals, and his retainers cast into the street. This sentence is to be carried out immediately."

Lord Tokugawa's eyes swept over them. "The fate of the Lady Himura I leave to her husband's discretion."

Kenshin took wry, bitter moment to be grateful that the man had learned that much.

"As for the former son, who disowned his father…"

The gentle press of Kaoru's fingers on Kenshin's wrist was suddenly an urgent grip. " _Adopt him_ ," she whispered, low and fierce.

"He will be taken into one's own household, that he will." Kenshin said, responding automatically to the order. At least that made some kind of sense: the rest of this was madness, a nightmarish reworking of another hearing, another trial, too many years ago…

"Will he, now?" There was a certain feline satisfaction in Lord Tokugawa's face. "I have no objection to that."

The shōgun stood, gesturing to one of his bodyguards.

"Have them escorted to the prison." he said, nodding to Sir Miyauchi and his wife, "We are done here."

With a firm nod, he left the room. Guards came in and surrounded Yahiko's parents; when they stood back, the two were bound tightly. Like common criminals.

Which they were, now.

Yahiko stared after them, grief building like madness behind his eyes. His father met his gaze proudly; his mother looked at him with tears in his eyes.

"Be strong, my son," she told him. "Remember you are samurai."

"…mom…" Yahiko's fists clenched in his clothing. He bowed his head and Kenshin said nothing. What could he say? Another family destroyed, because of him. Because of what he was – the legacy of blood and ruin that followed him wherever he went, no matter what he did…

Lady Kyoko looked at Kaoru, tender grief shining in her face.

"Take care of him."

Kaoru nodded. The guards took them away. Kenshin was left alone with his wife, and the child whose life he'd shattered.

Yahiko back was curved, bowed down by the weight of it all, and he started at the floor as if he could make sense of what had happened by deciphering the patterns there.

Kaoru went to kneel by his side.

"Yahiko…"

"This is my fault." His voice was dull. "I should have listened to you."

"No." Kaoru folded him in her arms. "No, Yahiko, this isn't your fault. None of it was. You were just trying to protect me, that's all."

Yahiko didn't cling to her; he had aged too much for that in the past quarter of an hour. All he did was rest his head against her shoulder and apologize again, his voice muffled in her robes.

Kaoru looked up at Kenshin. Kenshin looked away.

He wanted to say _something_. Knew that he should. But – what could he possibly say? What words could make this right?

His fault. Always his fault.

"One will… return home, that I will," he finally managed to say. "And await you."

 _If you come back_ , he left unspoken. And she would have every right to leave him, after this. He should have known better than to believe that Enishi's death would be the end of it. How could it be, when she'd taken that blow for him instead? Sacrificed her own unstained hands for his sake, bloodied herself with the resolution of _his_ grudges, as if he had any right to taint her with his crimes…

Kaoru nodded. Kenshin bowed, and left.

~*~

Yahiko was a hot, shaking weight in Kaoru's arms, clenched in on himself like a dying fern. He wasn't crying – at least, he wasn't shedding any tears. But she knew perfectly well by now that one didn't need to shed tears to weep.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled against her shoulder. "I'm really really _sorry_ – "

"I know." She wrapped her arms around him, tucking his head under her chin. "I know."

Her heart ached for him, for Aunt Kyoko, even for Uncle Miyauchi. For all he had sold her – ah, gods, what did it matter now? What did it matter that he'd broken his elder brother's oath? What did it matter that Yahiko was sorry, that Yukishiro was dead – what did any of it matter?

The Kamiya were gone, just like that: with a sentence and wave of his hand Lord Tokugawa had abolished them entirely, and it was Yahiko who'd given him the means to do so. And Uncle Miyauchi had yielded to it, by the look he'd given Yahiko – had sacrificed the clan to save his son.

The truly horrid thing was, she couldn't quite hate the shōgun for what he'd done. It was the most practical option, the soundest strategy. As long as there was a potential heir of the old bloodline for the clans of Hito to rally around, there was always the possibility, however remote, of revolt. And that was the one thing his regime couldn't afford, not now.

That he'd spared Yahiko's life was already a dangerous mercy. Yahiko had had to disown his family name to do it – but that would barely satisfy detractors. And there would detractors, inevitably: high lords searching for weaknesses, probing the edifice of the Tokugawa for any crack that they could leverage into more power for themselves, more wealth and prestige for their families.

Kenshin, she thought vaguely, wouldn't help matters there. By rights he should have divorced her, or sent her into exile; by rights he shouldn't have listened to her and taken Yahiko into his household. His reputation and standing would protect them, but… it could shield them from this and only this. Nothing more. They would have to be careful, moving forward.

Yahiko stirred and pulled away, his shoulders still slumped and his head bowed under the weight of what had happened. His eyes were dry, though; he would not cry, not here. Not until there was no one to see.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I should have listened to you. When you said to go home. I should have – "

"Yahiko, no." She took him by the shoulders. "Yes, you should have listened to me but this wasn't your fault. This was – " _Hot blue eyes and skin ravaged by fever, fingers boring into her flesh_ " – this wasn't something either of us could have stopped, I think." She swallowed, hearing iron truth in the words as she spoke them. "If you'd refused, Yukishiro would have found another way. He wanted Kenshin. We were just… a way for him to get what he wanted."

She hugged him again. He felt so small in her arms, young and frail, shaking with things he could not express and _would_ not express until he was alone. Until he was safe.

"I'm so sorry, Yahiko," she said.

Too small a thing for such a terrible loss. She knew that. As she knew that there was nothing she could do except wait for him to find his own way home.

He didn't smile at that, only withdrew away from her with dark eyes downcast and stood.

"We should go."

~*~

Ayame and Suzume were waiting in the front hall when Kenshin returned to the manor. Ayame threw her arms around his waist when she saw him, hugging him tightly. He hesitated before he returned the embrace.

"I knew you'd bring her back. I _knew_ it," she cried, sounding once more like the child she was. "Lord Aoshi came and told us. Where is she?"

"She's coming." He managed a small smile. "She had to go get your cousin Yahiko, that's all. I came back first to make sure that everything was all right."

Which it wasn't. But she didn't know that, not yet, and she'd been through enough.

Suzume tugged at his hand. He knelt down and gathered them both in his arms.

"It will be all right now," he promised them, hoping that for once it wouldn't be a lie. That this really _was_ the end, that there would be no more old blood and old madness to stain their young lives. "Truly."

He spent as much time with them as he could bear, mindful of their needs – so much loss and horror and uncertainty over the past few days, and what was his weariness when measured against their lost innocence? – before Tsubame insisted that it was time for lessons to begin. Even now, there were duties to be fulfilled, routines to maintain. The world ticked on regardless of anyone's feelings and that was, he'd been taught, right and proper and even noble. What was one person against the entire arc of heaven, after all?

He'd thought, once, that one person could be enough. But there were too many connections after all, too many bonds pushing and pulling everyone this way and that. His master had been right, all those years ago: the only way to rise above was to have nothing, not even a friend.

And even his master had failed in that.

Kenshin retreated into his office and found a stack of new paperwork waiting for him. He picked up the first sheet, idly, and saw that it was an execution order for one of the men of the household who had been involved in the kidnapping. Even here, there was no escape.

He held the paper for a long time, not reading it, not even really seeing it other than as a series of black marks on white skin, and thought _they should be red_ – red for the blood that had been shed, would be shed. Red for the color that should never have touched Kaoru's skin.

Then he put it down. He opened the exterior door to the small, bare garden – all stone and moss and driftwood – and he knelt on the tatami and he waited, staring out at the carefully-arranged rocks.

~*~

Kenshin had left them the honor guard, and Kaoru dismissed them gratefully at the gate when she saw O-tsuki standing there. The maid bowed deeply.

"Welcome home, my lady." The relief in her voice was palpable. "My lord informed us of your arrival. What is your will?"

"My sisters." She said it automatically, nearly forgetting Yahiko's sullen, withdrawn presence in her sudden rush of joy. "Ayame and Suzume. Take me to them. And – "

She glanced at Yahiko.

"Take both of us," she said abruptly. Yahiko shot her a startled look; she returned it with a firm one, and he subsided.

Her sisters mobbed her as soon as she crossed the threshold of their schoolroom. Kaoru fell to her knees, embracing them. Ayame sagged into her arms, clutching tight and dry-eyed at her sleeve; Suzume collapsed into her lap with a tiny wail and a contented sigh.

"I knew it," Ayame whispered. "I knew he'd keep his promise."

Kaoru didn't need to ask what promise she meant. Instead she drew her arms tighter around her sisters, drawing comfort from their small, warm solidity, from the realness of sweet-sticky fingers and half-grown limbs.

"I'm here," she told them. "I'm here."

She kissed them both on the forehead, then, and caught Yahiko's sleeve between her fingers when he would have left.

"Cousin Yahiko is going to live with us from now on," Kaoru informed them. "So why don't you show him how well you've been doing on your studies?"

" _Kaoru_ – " he started to protest. She silenced him with a look. He needed this, she sensed; needed to know that things would carry on. She knew her cousin, knew that he would have already torn himself to pieces, had probably _been_ tearing himself to pieces since her kidnapping. That last thing he needed was more time to stew in his guilt.

"Are you going to go see Uncle Ken?" Ayame asked innocently. "He was in here before but then he went away. I think he's sad about something."

"Of course I am." Kaoru patted her head. "But first I had to see you."

Ayame snuggled closer to her. "I'm glad you're back, sister."

"So am I." She hugged her sisters tightly once more; then, after a moment's contemplation, she reached out, hooked one arm around Yahiko, and pulled him into her embrace. He put up only a token resistance before letting himself be drawn into her arms, curling around the girls as she covered them all.

They sat that way for a long time before Kaoru – mindful of the one person who _should_ be there, and yet was not, and she could guess why – gently disentangled herself.

"Stay with the girls," she told Yahiko. "I'm going to go see Kenshin now, all right?"

~*~

The door to the hallway slid open behind Kenshin, silent as a whisper.

"Kenshin?"

He heard Kaoru treading softly across the room, the hem of her robes dragging along the floor with a sound like the low rush of water. Kenshin swallowed.

"Yahiko's with the girls," she said. "I didn't think he should be alone… and neither should you."

She knelt beside him, as she had all those months ago in Hito. The few inches between them had been an impossible divide then; now, when he was even less deserving of it, she crossed them easily to rest her head on his shoulder.

"Kaoru…"

"It wasn't your fault." Her hand sought his, twining soft and strong around his numbed fingers. "There wasn't anything you could have said or done to change the outcome. He'd already made up his mind before he called us in; we were just there to witness."

"How can you be sure?" _And how can you be so calm?_ he wanted to ask. What was left of her family had just been obliterated, and _he_ had provided the shōgun with the means to do it.

"It made sense." She said it quietly, her tone so even that he couldn't detect her feelings. "As long as the Kamiya endured, there was always the chance that Hito could rally around one of us and rebel. Yahiko gave him the chance to wipe us out, so he took it. I can't really blame him for that."

Grief shadowed her eyes. Kenshin could barely stand to meet them; he turned his head, his mouth twisting into a frown.

"Anyway," she continued. "I'm alive. Ayame and Suzume are alive. Yahiko is alive – and, well…"

She took a deep breath, pulling away from his side and turning to face him. Her eyes were dark and serious as the sky before a storm, bearing down on him with fierce intensity.

"Samurai families change their names all the time," she said, uncertainty lending a ragged-silk undertone to her too-quiet voice. "Who the Kamiya _are_ , what we believe in… that lives on, in me, and my sisters, and in Yahiko. Even if – "

She faltered.

" – even if we call ourselves Himura, now."

Kenshin stared. Kaoru searched his face, her heart written plain in her eyes, in the way her mouth frowned with concentration, in the slight tension of her jaw. He kept staring back at her, wordless, as the ground fell away from him and crumbled and nothing made sense, because this wasn't – this was too much. Impossible, even for her, after all that had happened, all that he'd been responsible for: her kidnapping and captivity, the loss of what was left of her family –

And yet it did, when he remembered her fingers hot against his wrist in the audience chamber, restraining him. The careful shake of her head, denying him, refusing to allow him to interfere. Her family's name for her cousin's life…

Her eyes were calm and certain, and his heart stopped. _Samurai families change their names all the time_.

"Even now?" he finally managed to say, breathless with the weight of it.

"Yes." Their hands sought each other, meeting palm-to-palm in the space between them and Kenshin thought that his heart might beat out of his chest. "My husband."

She'd said the words before a hundred times, but never in that way. Never _claiming_ him.

Carefully, afraid of something breaking, he took her hands in his and drew them towards his heart.

"Thank you," he said. "Kaoru. Wife."

"I… there is one more thing." Her hands stilled. Kenshin raised his head to look at her: she was flushing slightly, biting at her lip, indecision plain in her eyes.

She pushed herself back from him a little, fishing in her robes, and took a plain, soft-bound notebook out from where it had been tucked under her belt. Kenshin watched, frowning in bewilderment. His stomach tightened, as nervous as she was, but there was a queer calmness underpinning it all.

Kaoru _had_ chosen him. So he had to believe…

"I found this hidden in the dresser in the room where – where I was held," she said softly, holding it out to him. "It must have been _her_ furniture, though I can't imagine how he got it. And I read it. I'm sorry – but I needed to know what was happening, and why, and – well, I didn't have any other way to find out."

He took the notebook. It was a small thing, nothing more than a noblewoman's amusement: it took him a moment to read the name written in small, neat, too-familiar script and a moment more to understand what it meant.

 _Tomoe Yukishiro_.

"She thought you would find it," Kaoru said, her voice low and distant over the blood roaring in his ears. "I think you should read it, all of it, but especially… the last entry – it's a message for you. You should read it," she said again, her brows pinching as she studied his face. "She wanted you to."

Kenshin couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't even feel the notebook resting in his hands. Her diary… Kaoru had read her diary, Kaoru _knew_ –

"Kenshin?" He could barely hear her.

His fingers thick and clumsy, his skin not quite his own, Kenshin opened the diary and began to read.

 _Tensho 18, 8_ _th_ _month, 1_ _st_ _day_ , it began.

_Akira is dead, and the Hojo have fallen._

_~*~_

Kaoru watched silently as Kenshin read the diary very, very slowly, his lips moving as he traced the words with desperation in his eyes. He sat like a statue. Every few minutes, his hand would lift to turn the page, but other than that he did not move.

His head was bowed, his long red bangs hiding his eyes.

After more heartbeats than she could count, he set the diary down.

"I…" he started to say. Stopped. Began again.

"That is. One should say – "

His words stuttered to a halt: she could see them shriveling on his tongue. She reached out to him, her heart in her throat. His beautiful, bright eyes were pale with grief.

"Kaoru…"

He said her name like a prayer, reaching out, and then collapsed in her arms and clung to her like a drowning man. Kaoru pressed her lips to the top of his head and held him steady as he shook against her, his fingers tangling in her clothes. She couldn't tell if he was crying or not; she didn't care. They stayed that way for a long, long time, Kenshin a hot weight in her arms, against her chest while she bent over him as if she could shield him from the storm.

Then, finally, Kenshin hitched in a long, stuttering breath and pulled away. He cupped the side of her face tenderly, not quite smiling.

"So you know," he said, something like regret in his voice.

"Only what was in the diary." Kaoru sought his hand and found it, twining her fingers with his. "Is there more than that?"

He looked at her solemnly. "Yes."

She swallowed.

"Do you want me to know?"

"Kaoru…" He shifted, sitting up a little straighter so that they were leaning against each other, curled together in the late afternoon light. "It's not an easy thing to tell, that it isn't."

"If you want me to hear it, I'll listen. And if you don't…" she shrugged. "If you don't, I don't care."

She found, as she said it, that she meant it: and it should have surprised her but it _didn't_. It didn't matter anymore – man, demon, killer, warrior, whatever he was – none of that mattered. He was Kenshin, _her_ Kenshin, and she knew what that meant even if the rest of the world didn't. She had _chosen_ him.

Kaoru snuggled a little closer into his shoulder.

"I don't _care_ ," she said. "The past is the past."

"Kaoru…" Kenshin kissed the top of her head, drawing her close and warm against his side. There was a reverence in his voice that she'd only heard once before, on their wedding night, when he'd made to leave her side and she'd demanded that he stay.

After a little while, he began to tell the story.

"One… was born," he started, hesitated, and then continued. "One was born to farmers in a village in the South. We grew red dye," he said, a note of something not quite defiance and not quite apology in his voice. "It was a small village, set in a valley, of no particular importance. But one day, raiders came – men from some lord's army or another, set to ravage the countryside and harry the opposing forces. Not that it mattered to us, that it did not."

His eyes were remote, his voice calm as he spoke, as if he was reciting a lesson.

"They destroyed the village. I survived – though I do not remember how. My master found me in the ruins, burying the dead. I remember that, a little. Mostly how my hands ached, and a voice telling me to stop…"

He took a deep breath.

"He took me in as his apprentice. We… quarreled, often, as I grew older. I wanted to leave, to go out and help people with the skills he'd given me; he told me that I wasn't ready, that I would only offer my sword to the first cause that seemed just. I couldn't see what was so wrong with that – and he told me…"

A short hitch, almost as if he were snorting, and Kenshin tightened his hold on her. Like he thought she might drift away.

"He told me that power such as ours could never be allowed to serve any master save ourselves. That no one could be trusted with it – that I must always make my own choices, fight my own battles, and never allow another to command me or to bind me to any particular place. I must have no connection to the world – not friends or family or even a cherished enemy – but set myself above it, able to bring heaven's justice impartially to lord and peasant alike."

"That sounds lonely."

Kaoru hadn't meant to interrupt. Kenshin glanced down at her, his eyes split with a deeper sorrow than he had ever let her see before.

"It was. My master… had few friends. Sir Shakku was the only one, really, and he rarely visited."

The boy her husband been couldn't have been very much different from the man he'd become. He must have longed for friends, for company.

Her heart ached for him, alone with no one but his master and that cold destiny before him – to have _nothing_ binding him, no person to look at and say _this is what I fight for_.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It was a long time ago." Kenshin didn't shrug; she had felt obscurely that he might. "My master… died, when I attained my mastery. Forgive me, but – it is a secret of my style, and not mine to give away. Though I will not pass it down, so… perhaps it doesn't matter. But he would want me to keep it, nonetheless."

"Of course." She took Kenshin's hand in hers, twining her fingers through his.

"He was a good man, in his way." He said it softly, wistful. "And he did care for me."

Another deep breath, and he kept talking.

"I left the place where my master and I had lived, and traveled for a while. This was shortly after Lord Nobunaga's death, when the clans had fallen again to war. I saw that the land was in chaos – that if something was not done, and soon, we would once again fall to that endless civil war. Raiders would ravage the land again, lords fighting on the backs of those who could not defend themselves. I… would not allow that."

He swallowed.

"I chose Lord Tokugawa because he had supported the claim of the rightful heir. If anyone could unite the country, I thought, it would be Lord Nobunaga's own appointed successor. When I went to offer my allegiance to his son directly, however, he turned me away – so it was Lord Tokugawa who took me in. I am not – "

His fingers clenched slightly in her robes.

"I am not of noble birth, honored wife." His eyes were lowered as he said it, his voice very quiet. Waiting for her reaction. "That is a fiction concocted by Lord Tokugawa. He had seen the difficulties encountered by Lord Toyotomi when he was part of Lord Nobunaga's train on account of that man's low birth; he saw that lineage was becoming more and more important, and thought it best to counter the move before it was made. He is a cunning man."

Then, for the first time in his tale, a certain chill settled in Kaoru's spine. Not because of the confirmation of what Yukishiro had told her – it was a damn clever move, she had to admit; Lord Tokugawa's foresight was justly legendary. It was that…

She knew – everyone did – the part that Kenshin had played. That it was because of _him_ that Lord Tokugawa had fought Lord Toyotomi to a standstill, forcing the warring sides to make peace. That it was _he_ who had annihilated the Hojo, leading to Lord Tokugawa to claim the Kanto that would become the seat of his power. That it was he who had unleashed a tide of blood at Sekigahara, ending once and for all any thought of standing against the Tokugawa hegemony.

And it was not filial piety that had moved him. There was no bond of blood and familial service between him and the shōgun. Only a choice made by a young man who had been enough of a romantic to choose the side of the lawful heir.

So much had rested on that young man's choice – a choice that he'd made without guidance, trusting only his own heart. Not for gain or glory, but the hope of a peaceful Japan. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Kenshin looked at her from under his lowered eyelashes, waiting. She drew back and pressed her fingers under his chin, lifting it so that he had to look into her eyes. He was only a little taller than her when they both stood: with her sitting straight and him still slouching, he was shorter. And she could see in his face how much her reaction worried him.

Even now, he thought that he might lose her.

Her heart nearly broke with tenderness.

"I said that I don't care, didn't I?" She smiled at him. "Is that all you wanted to say? Because it's not very scandalous."

He almost smiled at that, his eyes brightening for just a moment with relief.

"Perhaps not." Then the darkness came back to his face. "There is more, that there is. Concerning… concerning the Lady Tomoe. My first wife."

"If you want to tell me, I'll listen." Though she already knew the bones of it from reading the diary. Lady Tomoe had been sent to weaken him, to kill him – and she had not. She'd fallen in love instead: she'd looked into the eyes of the monster who'd destroyed her life and seen only a man. A _good_ man, a man who deserved more than the world had made of him. The only real mystery that remained was in how the lady had died, and Kaoru could feel the answer to that question in the back of her mind, a kind of faint impression like the shadows beyond a screen.

_This is the only way that I can protect you._

A woman, her mother had told her once, was like a dagger: only a small thing, a tool of convenience – but oh, what that small thing could do in the right hands. A dagger in the right place, at the right time, could bring down an empire.

"You know…" Kenshin began to say. "You read the diary, that you did. So you know the… the circumstances under which we were married. And what came of that."

He hunched over, curling into himself like a man hiding a wound. His hands slipped from hers, his body withdrawing and she let him go. Let him pull away. She would find him and bring him home if he strayed too far.

"I… she confessed to me, the night before she was to betray me." His fists clenched in the cloth covering his thigh where he knelt like a prisoner making his confession. "I was a fool. I brought the matter to Lord Tokugawa: he shattered the conspiracy, and – and ordered me to kill her. Because she was a traitor. Never mind that the treachery hadn't been carried out – "

"He didn't dare take the chance," she finished quietly, the shadow of the truth in her mind becoming clearer.

"For her courage in confessing, he granted her the right to die at her own hand. But I was to serve as her second. To ensure that it would be done. And – I could not. I could not kill her!"

A shudder wracked his body, for a moment: then a deliberate, disciplined calm replaced it, his face growing still as a sheltered pool.

"One is no samurai, that I am not," he said, still wrapped in that eerie stillness. "He asked me to kill my wife, that he did, and no talk of honor can make that other than it is."

"Then why do you still serve him?" Kaoru asked, remembering the diary and knowing the answer now, the shadows clear and defined behind the screen but wanting to hear him say it. To be _certain_.

_There is no time. And you must live, my husband. You_ _ must _ _. You swore to me, and you never break your oaths. I cannot let you break one now. Not for my sake. I don't deserve that._

"Because…" His breath caught again and he closed his eyes, a terrible grief etched in his face. "Because she made me swear, that she did. I went to her, told her that I would not – that we would leave, and Tokugawa could chase us to the ends of the damned earth if he pleased but I would not obey him in this. She made me swear to live on, no matter what happened. Swear to endure. I left to make some arrangements and…"

He swallowed hard, bending his head until his bangs covered his eyes.

"When I returned, she had taken a knife to her throat. There was a note – a full confession, signed by her hand, absolving me of all responsibility in the matter of the conspiracy. Setting me free."

Any other man, Kaoru thought, would have laughed hollowly as he said it. Kenshin only bowed his head a little further, still waiting for the final blow.

"I did leave Lord Tokugawa's service, for a time," he said quietly. "Though not officially. It was the death of Lord Toyotomi that called me back – the danger of civil war. And things… kept happening. And I stayed. And here we are."

"Here we are," she echoed softly, her heart breaking for both of them. For the young man he'd been, married to a woman he didn't understand – for Tomoe, caught in a web of duty and love and freeing herself from it in the only way she could – freeing them _both_ from it. Saving her husband by her death.

 _A samurai owns nothing_ , her father had told her once. _Man or woman, we have nothing of our own, not even our lives. Everything belongs to others: to our liege, our lands, our families. Except for honor. Only honor our honor is our own._

She had given him all that was hers to give, and died a traitor to keep him safe. Protecting him even from himself.

Kaoru touched Kenshin's hand, gently.

"Lady Tomoe was brave."

Kenshin looked up at her.

"One – did not know." His voice was thick. "Knowing by her own words that she wished me to live on, I did so. But one never knew _why_ – the diary went undiscovered until you came. Until you…"

Kaoru touched the side of his face, the warmth of him seeping into her fingertips. The fragile skin of his temple, the ridged silk of his hair.

"She forgave you," she said. "She loved you." _She blamed herself_.

Kenshin closed his eyes in pain, turning his face into her palm, blindly seeking comfort.

"Yes."

Kaoru drew him into her arms again and he came without fighting, burying his face in her shoulder and clutching her without weeping: holding to her as if she was the only thing that made sense, the only thing that he could trust and she let him do it.

They stayed that way for a long, long time.

~*~

Kenshin came back to himself nestled in Kaoru's arms, his face buried in her sleeve. The maelstrom around his heart was dying into something more manageable, leaving him worn-out and ragged as a storm-tossed banner. But there was a clarity there, hollow and salt-stained, like the ozone scent of earth after rain. Not the numb exhaustion that had wrapped him like a shroud for years, so much a part of him that he'd forgotten he had ever felt anything else.

Kaoru stroked his head, gently. He burrowed a little deeper in her arms, wanting to stay there forever and knowing that he shouldn't; there was still so much to do, responsibilities that were his and his alone, burdens he could never ask another to carry. His choices, his mistakes, the lives lost to them – Tomoe's life, and all that she might have had and been, that _he_ had taken away. For the sake of the nation. How could he ever say that it had been worth the cost?

Kaoru's life, too: her family, her father, his promise. All of it lost. _For the nation_ , he'd told himself, every time. For Japan. For _peace_ – because the only way out was through. Wading over corpses, through rivers of blood until you come at last to the other side and find _nothing_ –

Except.

She was still here.

He lifted his head and saw her looking down at him, her bright blue eyes solemn with something he'd never quite seen before. Something soft and fierce as flame, beautiful as the storm.

 _I forgive you_ , Tomoe had written.

 _She forgave you_ , Kaoru had said.

"I forgive you," Kaoru whispered.

Kenshin sucked in breath like a newborn thing, caught helpless under her gaze. All the old disaffirmations rose handily to his lips, climbing his throat like poison vines – _one is hardly worthy_ – only to wither and die unspoken in the light of her face.

 _I love you_ , she'd whispered so fiercely in the darkness, her lips against his heart.

Unworthy. Always and ever unworthy –

_There is no sin, no crime, no evil so great that it cannot be forgiven, if the sinner repents with a sincere heart._

She had chosen him. Unworthy, perhaps, but nonetheless _she had chosen him_. Had fought to return to him. Shed blood for it –

He sat up and touched the bruise the still marred her face.

"Thank you," he said, and somewhere in the silence of memory heard his master's satisfied snort. The old man always had told him to be more grateful. Had lectured him on it more than once, telling him that the world was not his to carry, that a man could only do so much, be so much.

 _All we can do is choose as best we can_ , he'd grunted into his sake. _Choose, and hope it all works out. Keep in mind, though – you never do get to see the end_.

"Come with me," Kaoru said. "You shouldn't be alone right now. None of us should. Family should stick together."

"Kaoru…"

"Come on." She stood, reaching out her hand. "Let's go."

Kenshin took his wife's hand and followed her.

The diary stayed, lying on the porch where it had fallen from his hands. A passing breeze ruffled its pages, like some unseen hand searching for an unwritten answer.

Then, it lay still.


	17. epilogue: a world in a grain of sand

The shōgun's guards bowed as they opened the door to reveal the august personage himself sitting on one side of a game board. He was waiting for her on a porch overlooking one of the thousands of palace gardens. It was lush with new life, green and dripping with spring, and the stream running through it roared a little more loudly than was dignified. The rain had swelled it.

Kaoru paused at the threshold, kneeling and bowing deeply as such a dignitary required.

"Lady Himura." He returned her bow with a shallow nod, in keeping with protocol. "Do you play?"

There was a small bowl of white stones beside him; a bowl of black stones waited on the other side of the table, presumably for her.

"Yes, Eminence." Her father had taught her, patiently explaining the board, the stones. Symbols and proverbs, and the real wisdom of the game, which lay not in knowing the rules but in understanding how and when and where they were best applied.

"Excellent. Please, join me."

An order, phrased as a request. For the time being it pleased Lord Tokugawa to pretend that this was what it had appeared to be when the invitation came: a friendly if unusual request for her company.

"I would be honored," she said demurely, and took her place across from him.

"Do you desire a handicap?"

"I would not presume to play such an opponent without one."

Lord Tokugawa chuckled. "Wise." He gestured to the board, a silent acquiescence. "Your husband is well, I trust?"

He would know that answer to that; the year of service in Edo that Lord Tokugawa had required was nearly ended and Kenshin spent most of his time in the castle proper, seeing to last-minute business. So why would the shōgun…?

 _A handicap_. Kaoru smiled only internally as the shape of the conversation became clear to her, pleased with her observation. An advantage given to a weaker or less experienced player, to keep the game interesting – and fair.

 _I was given nothing_ , she reminded herself, firm in her convictions. _I earned this –_

But then, a handicap in a game of go was no insult: it was a paradox, unequal treatment indicating the desire to play equally. And Lord Tokugawa had made no move to indicate his own rank: so this, too, was a test. How well did she know her own skill, and how did she judge herself against him…?

She moved confidently, selecting four stones and placing them in the corners of the board. Lord Tokugawa inclined his head, approving.

"My lord husband is very well, eminence," Kaoru said softly.

"And your cousin?" The shōgun placed his piece with seeming carelessness; Kaoru noted it but did not permit herself to guess his strategy. Not yet. He seemed like a man who would play the center, seeking influence over territory – but then again, he would be aware of his reputation and compensate for it.

 _Slow_ , she reminded herself. _Slow, and make no assumptions: play the board as it is, not as you planned for it to be_.

"Yahiko is grateful for the opportunity to prove his loyalty." She placed her next stone. "He is obedient and hardworking."

"His loyalty was proven when he renounced his clan," Lord Tokugawa remarked as he took his turn. "It gladdened my heart to see such a dutiful young man."

Duty had had nothing to do with it. It had been obedience to his father, not loyalty to the shogun that had drawn the words from Yahiko's mouth. One last obedience to his father, a gift she had not expected Miyauchi to give: his life, and his wife's, and all the honor of their clan for his son's survival.

He had not made her a similar gift. But then, she had only been a _daughter_ of the Kamiya.

Kenshin had kept his distance, respecting Yahiko's grief, though Kaoru knew that Yahiko blamed no one but himself for what had transpired. He didn't even blame _her_ – and he would have had the right to. _She_ had been the one to restrain Kenshin, stop his protests in their tracks and allow things to unfold as Lord Tokugawa had intended, when her husband's interference might have changed things.

It had been her choice, in the end. And she had made it… because it was the right one. She _knew_ that in her bones, for all her blood rebelled against it. Uncle Miyauchi was _not_ her father's heir, whatever the law said. She was; she and Yahiko, her cousin who would have inherited by law upon her father's death, whom her father had taught as carefully as he had her.

As long as they lived, the Kamiya would endure. So what if they might call themselves Himura from now on? Noble families changed their names all the time.

Her uncle had known just enough to… complicate things. If he had survived, and stayed in power, she would have had to maneuver around him. With him gone, she could act more freely.

There were always sacrifices. She had learned that at her father's knee, but now – now she _understood._ And a name for a future was not such a terrible one, in the scheme of things.

The game grew and evolved below their fingertips, white warring with black in endless shifting movements. As she had thought, Lord Tokugawa was the kind of man to seek control of the center: she stuck to the edges and corners, fighting only where she knew her footing was surest, and did her best to block his bids for influence. The tricks was not to be _led_ – he was a strong player, cunning and clever, and it would be so easy to let herself react to his choices rather than act on her own…

Lord Tokugawa let out a low laugh as Kaoru placed her next stone. He had seen what she had: the race for the northeast quadrant had left them in stalemate there and her latest move had set the détente in stone. Neither of them could make another move for that corner without sacrificing their entire territory. _Mutual life_ , it was called. An uneasy suspension of hostilities, each side dependent on the other.

Not an ideal situation, but it had complicated what appeared to be one of his more important bids for influence and prevented the capture of her own pieces. So it was worth it, for now.

Lord Tokugawa inclined his head in recognition of her play. She returned the nod gracefully and waited for his move.

Aoshi and Uramura had spent the last year hunting traitors, at her order. Those men who had been directly involved in Yukishiro's plot had been discovered and put to death in short order. _Her_ hand had condemned them, for all she'd signed the execution orders with Kenshin's seal. He'd watched her do it, the look in his eyes caught somewhere between awe and grief. As if she was making some great sacrifice in condemning traitors to their rightful fate.

He was not samurai. There were things that he did not understand, would never understand – but she did, and that was enough. He was content to let her take command. No, _more_ than content: he had surrendered to her as completely as if _he_ were the wife, trusting her guidance as she purged their house of treachery and began the long slow work of strengthening their position. There was the future to look to, after all, and his reputation could only carry them so far.

Their house. _Her_ house – her husband, her sisters, her cousin, her people. And she would protect them with every tool at her disposal.

A few of the brighter politicians had already begun to realized that it was the Lady, and not the Lord, who ruled in Hito. A bit sooner than she'd wanted, perhaps, but the ones clever enough to figure it out were also clever enough to keep it to themselves, rightly seeing the advantage in understanding where true power lay. Aoshi and Misao were keeping her abreast of the situation, seeding information where she instructed, ensuring that her honored colleagues knew exactly what she wanted them to know.

The trick would hardly work on Lord Tokugawa, of course. But he'd been absent from the field thus far, his goals differing from her own. She'd felt his influence – she couldn't _not_ , given his position on the board – but he had not yet opposed her.

Neither had he supported her.

The game continued, white and black filling the board in an orderly jumble. She laid traps, and he avoided them; he dangling tempting bait before her and she refused, seeing the claws within the sweetmeats. They warred across the lacquered square, and perhaps a more experienced player than she could have told who was winning – but Kaoru was hardly even close to mastering the subtleties, and she knew only that she _felt_ as if she was holding her own.

She lost herself in the game, forgetting time in the endless clack of stones against the board and the trance of strategy, each move echoing in her being. Formlessness and flowing water…

 _Play the game as it is, not as you planned it to be_.

After ageless moments, she found herself with nothing left to do. So she passed. Lord Tokugawa sat back on his heels, a small and perhaps genuine smile playing over his face.

"A good game," he said. "I pass as well."

And like that, it was over. All that remained was tallying up the score. Kaoru reached for the lid of her bowl, intending to count up the white stones she'd captured from Lord Tokugawa over the course of the game.

The shōgun reached out a hand – not quite touching her – and stopped her.

"With your permission, Lady Himura, it occurs to me that we might leave this score… uncounted."

There was a strangeness in his eyes. Not quite sorrowful, not exactly questioning: he spoke of the game they'd just played and of more than that. Kaoru studied his face for a moment, her brows creasing in thought.

"Might I ask why, Eminence?"

He settled back, withdrawing, and rested his hand lightly on his thigh.

"It has been my experience that we are rarely permitted to know if we have won or lost." With an eloquent shrug, he pushed his own lid – stacked with her black stones – towards her. "An idle fancy, perhaps."

And perhaps not.

"There are ways," Kaoru said. A strange courage fluttered in her chest as she spoke, a sense of – of running downhill, of pieces sliding into place. "For example – many men would look at your accomplishments and say that if life is a thing which can be won, you have won it."

There was no way to tell just by looking at the board which of them had won the game. It had been too complicated a thing for that: white and black strutted their colors across the board, outlining empty spaces, and their tangled lines betrayed no clear victor.

"Indeed." The shōgun raised an eyebrow. "What do men desire that I do not have?"

 _Nothing_ , was the obvious answer. _Not power or wealth or glory or honor…_

And yet. She'd learned the axiom at her father's knee: _our lives are not our own_. All these things came at a price: she _knew_ that now, as more than just a lesson to be recited. A name for a future; honor for legacy.

"Still, I did enjoy our game." Lord Tokugawa gestured at the board. "It would please me if we might play again. Do you intend to visit the capital in the future?"

"Perhaps. If my lord husband permits it." Empty words, and by the wry glint in his eyes the shōgun knew it. Kenshin did not _permit_ her anything; if she wished to visit Edo, she would, because he was her husband and not her captor. Her husband, her equal, her lover, her friend, and heaven willing the father of her children – once she stopped taking the tea Tae that had taught her how to brew, all those long years ago. Which she intended to as soon as they were back in Hito. Her child would be conceived _there_ , carried and born in her family's home and nowhere else.

An idle fancy. But it mattered to her.

"Then I hope that I might see more of you." His face was very knowing. "You show great promise, Lady Himura. I would enjoy the chance to learn from you."

"From me?"

"Of course." Another one of those strange, half-genuine smiles. "Only a fool believes that youth and inexperience have nothing to teach. The young sometimes see what the old do not, and many great things can be accomplished when one is too ignorant to know that a deed cannot be done. We play well together, Lady Himura; I value that more than victory or defeat."

There. That was the heart of it, she realized, as her heart pounded in her chest. An offer of… something that was not quite an alliance, not yet, but could be. He knew that it was _she_ who played the game on Hito's behalf, with her husband as a gamepiece (but only by his own will, she thought fiercely, only _ever_ by his will, because he loved her and he trusted her to play him wisely) and accepted it. Seemed, even – by the look on his face – to be _pleased_ by it.

Had he known, when all this began, what the outcome would be?

 _Play the game as it is, not as you planned for it to be_.

…did it matter, if he had? The board stood a certain way: how would she place her pieces?

The Tokugawa ruled. That was immutable, now, for at least a generation. She had sacrificed her family's name for her father's legacy: to ensure that she and her sisters and her cousin would escape unscathed to safer harbors, sheltered under Kenshin's name and reputation. Where she could rule Hito as her father had intended, with the man she had _chosen_ – and she _had_ chosen him, in the end, over and over again – at her side.

Her uncle was dead, his retainers banished into infamy or picked up quietly by Aoshi's forces and serving now in a different, more subtle way. Brother Mateo had returned to the foreign priesthood, at her quiet insistence, and served as their eyes and ear within it. Her position was far stronger than it had been a year ago.

An alliance with the shōgun would be… advantageous. If it could be arranged.

There was nothing left of the past. There was only the future, now: Lord Tokugawa had recognized her as a power in her own right – the first player on the board to do so. Sought alliance with her, and not her husband, knowing her to be player and he the piece, and not disapproving of the arrangement.

She would certainly entertain worse offers, once everyone else caught on.

Kaoru smiled, inclining her head.

"In that case, Eminence, I would be honored to play with you again."

~*~

Kenshin was playing with the girls when Kaoru got home; they always invaded the office as soon as their lessons were over, bringing their latest accomplishments for him to make much of. He was listening solemnly to Suzume's explanation of a picture she'd drawn when Kaoru entered, his head bent and nodding as she pointed out things she especially wanted him to notice.

"I'm home, husband," she said. He looked up and smiled as he always did – as if the sun had returned with her presence.

"Welcome home, wife. How was your visit?"

Just a bare trace of worry in his eyes. She smiled to dispel it.

"It was fine." She would explain the subtleties later, when the girls were safely abed. "Lord Tokugawa has invited us to visit for the New Year – I thought we might, since we should be settled by then." The invitation had been for Tanabata, actually, but Kaoru had demurred and suggested the other date. Partly because she wanted the full year to settle home again, but mostly because Tanabata was _theirs_ in the most important way: the moment that they had found each other, the moment that everything had really begun. She didn't want to waste it on a formal palace affair.

"Lady Takani and her son will enjoy that," he said. Kaoru settled by his side, hugging her sisters back as they swarmed over her. Ayame was in the process of embroidering a handkerchief – quite intricately, actually, given her age – and Kaoru exclaimed over it appropriately.

"Well, they're welcome to visit whenever they wish," she replied, after greetings were done. "We won't be that far away. And I could hardly deprive Ayame of her playmate, could I?"

Ayame and Katsuo had grown close over the past year, which was good for them both; Katsuo was a lonely child, and Ayame had lost too much. There would be visits, Kaoru was certain, and she hardly minded. Lady Takani was an acid wit, but an unexpected friend for all of that. Both of them understood what it was to be beyond the pale.

Anyway, whenever her sarcasm got too unbearable she could always redirect it at Sano… and _that_ was a show worth the price of admission. She gave it another year, maybe two, before they finally gave in.

"That's so." Kenshin's hand covered hers for a moment, warm and loving. Kaoru smiled at him.

Then Suzume shot up and out the porch doors, beelining for Yahiko as he crossed quickly through the courtyard.

"Cousin, cousin!" She latched on to his sleeve. "Come and see!"

He glanced up, saw Kenshin sitting there, and froze. Kenshin stiffened as well.

Kaoru didn't know what to say.

Her husband and her cousin had barely said two words to each other since that strange, horrible day, for all she'd tried to bridge the gap between them. There was no _blame_ involved, she knew that – only grief and guilt, and more than a little bit of broken pride.

After a pause that was almost too long, Kenshin cleared his throat.

"Suzume has drawn a picture," he said carefully. "It is very fine, that it is. Would you like to see?"

Yahiko wasn't being given a lot of choice in the matter. Suzume pulled him across the yard, determined to have her full due of praise, and he stumbled awkwardly after. His dark eyes never lowered.

She sat him down on the edge of the porch and shoved the picture in his hands. Her cousin looked at it, barely seeing it.

"It's, uh – it's really nice, Suzume."

Suzume began to explain it. It was clear to Kaoru, at least, that Yahiko wasn't really listening: that all his being was focused on Kenshin's presence with a horrible alertness. Kaoru been much the same, before she'd come to know him – though Yahiko, at least, had Kaoru's assurance that he was more than his reputation. But she knew, also, that her assurance wouldn't be enough, not after all that had happened. He felt responsible: blamed himself for being a child and easily fooled, for how Yukishiro had exploited his love of his family, for the choice that his father had made…

"One is particularly fond of the depiction of Miss Mouse, that I am," Kenshin remarked softly. Yahiko raised his head too quickly, his brows drawing down over his eyes as he looked at Kenshin as though he was a puzzle that Yahiko couldn't quite solve.

"She looks rather like Sir Uramura, that she does."

Yahiko looked back down at the picture. A stifled laugh shot between his teeth.

"Yeah." He bit at his lower lip. "She kinda does."

Kaoru relaxed. They would find their way, in time. They couldn't _not_. Whatever Kenshin feared, she knew that Yahiko didn't blame him; and whatever Yahiko blamed himself for, she knew that Kenshin didn't. They were, both of them, fiercely honest souls. They would come to understand each other.

Suzume chattered at them both indiscriminately, effortlessly filling the gaps in their halting conversation. Ayame bent studiously over her embroidery – for Katsuo, she told Kaoru, when Kaoru asked why, exactly, she was working on it still. The handkerchief was to be a gift, because she was going away, and she wanted him to remember her.

Kaoru smiled softly when she heard it, glad for her sister's young heart.

The sky above them was pale and blue, deepening towards summer. There was already a smell of flowers on the wind, the promise of long lazy days. The wisteria would be in full bloom when they returned to Hito, and Kaoru knew from Master Oguni's letters that the garden – so wild and overgrown when last she'd left – was back in some kind of proper order. All was well, and all would be well, and by this time next year…

Kaoru smiled, curling a hand over her belly.

By this time next year, she promised herself, they would be home.


End file.
